


Kill(ing) Joys

by nobody_of_importance



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Drama, F/M, Gang, Gang Violence, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 08:53:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 39,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1976736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobody_of_importance/pseuds/nobody_of_importance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New Jersey is a seedy, violent dystopia, the chaos of which is ruled over by the most violent, ruthless gang of all.</p><p>This is the Killjoys as you've never seen them before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'll Keep You Safe Tonight

_I was seven, just a little kid, and I lived in New Jersey. I had been born there, I was being raised there, and I knew I was going to die there, no question about it. I would probably die_ soon, _too, unless my parents cut a deal with the reigning gang. I couldn’t remember what they were called, but it was a big word. Maybe two._  
See, I was growing up with rich parents on the ‘good’ side of town – if you could even call it that. There were still muggings, beatings, rape, murder, but… not as much as in the rest of the city. No, the rest of the city was worse – anyone from the ‘wrong’ side of the tracks knew how to fight. They wore masks and learned from each other. If they didn’t learn, they died. Sometimes it was an accident – they just weren’t good enough to train with someone and wound up dying in a friendly sparring match, and sometimes the hopeless were just put out of their misery. Most of the time, though, it was just murder.  
As a seven-year-old growing up in this world, I was as sheltered as my parents could keep me; home schooled, no talk of drugs, violence, or sex, no leaving the house without an escort, and even then I was ushered quickly back and forth between the door and the car. I’d never _really_ gotten to soak up the sunlight.  
That night, when I was seven years old and unable to sleep, I crept downstairs and heard voices in the kitchen. Like every other little kid would do – from either side of the tracks – I listened from behind the slightly open door.  
“…need to protect ourselves, and this is the best way.” Mother was saying. I wasn’t allowed to call her ‘Mommy,’ not even ‘Mom’. Always, ‘Mother.’ “They’ll take care of her, and she’ll be safe up until then.”  
Father shifted slightly, the soft ‘squeak’ from his chair telling me so. “Are you sure this is the best way?”  
“Yes.” Mother replied. “When she’s seventeen, they’ll come for her. She’ll be the property of whoever Dr. Death Defying hands the Fabulous Killjoys over to.”  
That was it, the name of the gang. And the leader’s name. And they were talking about me.  
They were going to give me away to keep themselves safe.

X

I snarled behind my mask, lashing out at the boy who’d taken to training with me. We’d always been pretty well matched, even though I didn’t start fighting until I was seven.  
“Good,” He nodded, rubbing his jaw. He might have size on me, but I was definitely too fast for him to duck. “That’s exactly what I mean, feel that anger. It has to be the memory with the most hate to get the most raw energy out of your hook.”  
I nodded, staying in a defensive position. That was rule number one out here; no matter how much you trust someone, you _don’t ever let your guard down_. I’d been fighting with Frank almost since I hit the streets, and I trusted him with my life, but I always half expected him to try to take it, too.  
I still crashed at my parents’ house, but they weren’t ‘Mother’ and ‘Father’ anymore. If I felt like acknowledging their existence, they were lucky if they got insulted. If they weren’t lucky, they might bleed a little. Just enough to see them cry.  
I wouldn’t forgive them for what they did to me.  
“Thanks, Frankie.” I said, nodding in acknowledgement from behind my mask. Out here, he and everyone else knew me simply as Suicidal Smile – I had taken on a Killjoy name when I hit the streets, knowing I would beat them or die trying. Knowing I would be one of them, one day. My mask was the kind associated with signs for drama and theatre – the smiling one, painted black. I put white ‘X’s over the eye holes. I hadn’t actually _chosen_ my name, it was what they called me – I was a little kid in a handmade mask trying to learn to fight while looking like a Killjoy. They all figured I was suicidal, and the mask just kept grinning no matter how many bones I broke or how many times I bled.  
Frank rolled his eyes as he relaxed, and I knew we really were done for the day. “You know, if anyone else called me that, I’d splatter their brains on the wall.” He grinned, nodding towards the dingy brick of the building next to us. Side-by-side, we sauntered out of the alley, unafraid. Frank Iero had a reputation as one of the best fighters on the street. I had a reputation, too – as the most ruthless.  
“So Smile, what do you think the _real_ Killjoys have been up to?” Frank grinned at me. He was always a happy, hyperactive boy when there wasn’t ass to be kicked. He was barely 16, after all.  
And I was almost seventeen.  
“I dunno. I dunno if I like the new goon squad.” I shrugged, the only person on the streets reckless enough to call them that. Four new masked Killjoys had taken over several years ago, handpicked by Dr. D himself. The Kobra Kid was the brains of the operation, and there were rumors going around that he could make anything into a weapon – and be able to use it pretty damn well. Jet Star was the tallest and strongest of them, and known for being ferocious in a fight. He was pretty bright, too. All four of them were smart. Fun Ghoul was the reckless one, best with hand-to-hand fighting. He was also the shortest of the group. The leader, Party Poison, was the ruthless one. He would take anyone down without batting an eye, and he could do it more ways than even the warped Jersey underworld could imagine. Truth be told, they were brilliantly effective and had the city under control even better than Dr. D, who had ruled for 20 years. I just hated them because I was going to _belong_ to them – most probably Party Poison.  
“You’ve really got some guts, Smile.” Frank shook his head at me, then grinned. “I guess they’re filling up where your brains should be.”  
I grinned behind my mask, playfully shoving Frank as we wandered down the broken sidewalk, stepping on all the cracks in hopes of breaking my mother’s back.  
“Yeah, yeah. Just you remember, ‘no guts, no glory’.” I tipped my head back, savoring the way the sun felt on my tanned, faintly scarred arms. I wore fingerless gloves on my hands that effectively covered the tattoos on my wrists, which were pretty distinctive. I couldn’t have anyone identifying me – I didn’t want the Killjoys knowing I could fight. When they came for me, I would go meekly along with them.  
And then I’d kill them in their sleep.  
Not exactly sporting, sure, but they were four men and I was one girl. Besides, they’d done some awful things themselves. I may not be Death, or whatever God exists (if there was one), but I would pass judgment on them. I already had.  
They were condemned.  
“Yeah, ‘cause glory’s why we’re fighting.” Frank sneered at me, rolling his eyes. “Not like you care, you’ve got nothing to lose.” He shrugged as if trying to get rid of me, and I knew I’d touched a nerve. “We’re all in over our heads here, and there’s no getting out.”  
“So let’s kill them.” I suggested. It was a dangerous move; if Frank repeated that to anyone, I would be killed the next time Suicidal Smile made an appearance. They wouldn’t check under the mask until I was splattered across Jersey.  
Frank looked at me, honestly shocked for the first time since I’d met him. “What?”  
“The Killjoys.” I said patiently. “Let’s kill them.”  
“Are you trying to get _us_ killed?” Frank hissed, glancing around in fear.  
“If they were dead, we wouldn’t have to be afraid anymore.” I said. “The police would start doing their jobs, the crime rate would drop a bit. Nobody would hurt someone else because the Killjoys are after them.” I dropped my gaze to the sidewalk, my blue eyes more like ice than pieces of me. Almost colder than they were before, when I was thinking about that night when I found out what my parents were really like.  
“I knew you hated the Killjoys, but, Jesus, I didn’t know you were thinking like _that_.” Frank said slowly, looking like he might be reconsidering our friendship.  
I stopped walking to look at him, and he halted to stare back at me, searching my eyes through the mask. “Frank, that’s the reason I started fighting.” I said honestly. “I‘m gonna kill the fucking Killjoys.”  
Fear – actual, real _fear_ – flashed in Frank’s eyes, and I wondered if I’d just lost my best friend. “Smile, if I’d have known that…” He took a step back, wide-eyed. I was a better fighter than him now, and we both knew it. If I didn’t succeed in killing all the Killjoys in one go, they would go after him once they did something horrible to me. They would kill him for training an assassin, even though he had no idea what I was planning.  
“Frank, don’t worry.” I said gently, my eyes softening. I would lose him one day, when the Killjoys finally ripped us apart, but I wanted my best friend with me right up to the last. “I won’t sell you out. I swear, Frank, you won’t get hurt. I won’t let them come after you. I’ll take them on myself so you can get out, if I have to.”  
Frank’s face crumpled and he flung himself onto me, hugging me tight. “Don’t worry about me.” He sighed. “Just… don’t get yourself killed. You’re like my sister.” He pulled back and gave me a shaky grin.  
I grinned back, then pulled him in for another hug. “And you’re my brother.”  
“Love you.” We said together, then pulled away, grinning as we sauntered down the sidewalk, as if we’d never stopped to discuss life, love, and murder.  



	2. Mama, We All Go to Hell

A week later, I was with Frank again. I’d sought him out every day, and I knew it would be our last together. He was catching on that something was up, but I wouldn’t tell him what was going on, and he eventually let it drop.  
“Smile, what are we doing tomorrow?” Frank asked as we wandered the city. I was saved from answering by a sight that set me on edge, especially _that_ day.  
I grabbed Frank’s arm and dragged him out of sight down the nearest alley, still peeking around the corner through my mask.  
Party Poison and the Kobra Kid were walking down the far side of the street, headed the same direction as Frank and I were. Party Poison wore his mask, and the Kobra Kid was wearing his motorcycle helmet – the one with the words ‘Good Luck’ stamped across the visor.  
I glared at them, my hand automatically moving to the sheath where I kept my throwing knife when Frank’s hand clamped around my wrist. “Please don’t.” He hissed anxiously, and I glanced at him over my shoulder. If he was seen with me when I killed them, he would meet the same fate as me.  
I let my shoulders slump as the two men passed our alley, unaware of our existence as they headed wherever they were off to. I would come for them one day, one day soon.  
Once the pair had passed down the street a ways, Frank and I emerged and continued wandering.  
“So what’s got you all worked up? You were ready to just kill them. What happened to planning?” Frank asked. “What would you do about the other two?”  
I sighed, not wanting to tell Frank I’d probably never see him again. “I’m just edgy today. I’ve got a birthday coming up, and you know what that’s like.”  
Frank nodded. On the street, if your birthday got out, it was a game for everyone else to make it your deathday, too. “Yeah, that sucks. You’ll be, what, eighteen?”  
I scowled behind my cheerful mask, glad to have it, as usual. “Seventeen.”  
“Oh.” Frank said. That was always a bad birthday – the game was more intense; everyone wanted to get you before you were an adult. Out here, we were mostly teenagers, and motherfucking scary ones.  
“Yeah.” I agreed, letting my breath rush out of my body. The sun was setting, so I was going to go home. I was too distracted to fight tonight, and it meant I would miss the bonfire.  
Every night, a bunch of us lit a fire in a trash can down an alley, dancing and singing bawdy songs, songs about death and dying and fighting just to stay in a world that was out to get us all. Someone tried to sing a song about living once, about carrying on. Called it ‘Welcome to the Black Parade.’ He told us all about the band, and sang us more songs about living. Songs like ‘Famous Last Words’ and one he said everyone called ‘Stay’ for lack of a real title.  
We killed him after that, just to show him that he should have lived life instead of singing about it.  
I lived for the bonfires, when we called a bit of a truce – the few fights that did break out were short and fatal – and actually lived. No matter what we’d done to that boy, we were living, and we were celebrating that the only way we knew how; by setting shit on fire and killing all our friends.  
“Frank, I’m skipping.” I stopped suddenly, knowing I wouldn’t go home if I didn’t go now. I could die, happily, at the bonfire tonight. I probably would have, too, if I didn’t have Killjoys to murder. I looked up from the sidewalk to meet his surprised, concerned eyes. Then I launched forward and hugged him tight. “Have fun tonight, okay?” I asked, my voice not as strong as I wanted it to be.  
Frank nodded. “Sure thing, Smile.” He hugged me back tentatively, worry tinting his voice. “You okay?”  
“I’ll be fine.” I whispered, then swallowed the lump in my throat. “I love you, Frankie, don’t forget that.” I said, pulling away to look him in the eyes.  
“I love you, too, Smile.” He replied sincerely, though his eyes were filled with confusion and fear as they searched my own empty ones.  
“Bye.” I whispered, then took off, back towards the stupid mansion I called home.  
I had preparations to make.

-

Once inside, I locked the door, double-checking all the shades as I headed for my room, discarding my mask and gloves. I pulled my copper hair out of the tight bun it stayed in under my hat, letting it loose. It was naturally wavy and fell to just past my shoulders, with an electric blue streak off to the left side. The color set off the reddish locks and my blue eyes.  
I hid my mask and the hat, then stripped off my gloves and packed them away, too. I wouldn’t be needing them again.  
I took a moment to stare at the tattoos on the insides of my wrists – on my right was the American Widow, the symbol of the Killjoys, because it reminded me that I was branded to be theirs, marked to kill and marked to die. On my left was a small, black dashed line across the veins just below my hand. A small image of scissors was at one end of the line, showing where to cut. I was an ex-cutter, and I wanted to remember it. Below the line was a barcode, though the numbers underneath it had been replaced by letters spelling out S-T-E-R-E-O-T-Y-P-E.  
I hid away everything that could ever connect me to Frank or Suicidal Smile, knowing that, that part of my life was finally over. I was calm and cool about it, but, somewhere deep inside of me, I felt a distant, faint shattering as I fell apart. As much as I hated the life I was born into, as much as I had worked, tried, cried, and bled to change it all, it had been my life.  
Once everything was packed away, I was ready. I sat calmly on my bed, meditating, as I waited.  
They were coming, but I was waiting.  
-  
“Good morning, sugar.” Purred a voice that sent shivers of disgust down my spine. Like every other soul (or lack thereof) in Jersey, I knew that voice.  
I opened my eyes to find the pink-tinted light of dawn seeping around my shades, and four shadows standing in my open doorway. They hadn’t bothered with the light.  
“Ready to go?” Party Poison asked, smirking beneath his mask as he stepped forward.  
This was it. They couldn’t know I was a fighter. They had to think they could scare me into anything, or I would never get my chance.  
“Wh-what?” I asked, my eyes widening as I shifted back on my bed, starting to scramble across the mussed sheets. I finally hit the wall, staring at them, wide-eyed. “Go-o where?” I’d never been an actress, but I was going to really play up the pathetic.  
“Get dressed, you’re coming with us.” Party Poison ordered, all traces of flirting gone. “Your parents _sold_ you so we’d watch out for them. You belong to _us_ now.”  
I swallowed hard, not really having to fake it, though I was swallowing more of a white-hot rage than fear. It was one thing to know you were being traded away for someone else’s happiness, it was another to hear someone say they _owned_ you. I was hopelessly proud and independent, and this alone might kill me.  
I gaped at him, my mouth opening and closing soundlessly like some demented fish. A fish out of water, destined to die. I shrank back against the wall, trying to melt into the surplus of plushy pillows, and a look of annoyance flashed across Party Poison’s face.  
This was a man who wasn’t used to being ignored. “Get dressed.” He snapped, pivoting on his heel. “Kobra, Ghoul, we need to see her folks. Jet, don’t let her do anything stupid.” Three of the Killjoys left, leaving only the helmeted Jet Star standing guard by the door, which the Kobra Kid closed with a _snap_.  
I slunk over to my closet, pulling out the first clothes I saw – black skinny jeans, a scarlet t shirt, a black hoodie, and black motorcycle boots. All of it designer, all of it brand new.  
I backed into my en suite bathroom, my lower lip trembling, my pale face reflected in Jet Star’s blank visor. Shutting the door, I wished I could cry – that would make my act all the more believable. Then again, I only had to last until tonight.  
Then we would all go to Hell.  



	3. Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge

I emerged, pale and shaking, from my bathroom, trying to look the part of a spoiled rich girl. I’d done my eyes with black eyeliner, and I’d managed to make my hair look presentable.  
When I stumbled back into my room, the Killjoys were waiting. Next thing I knew, Jet Star and the Kobra Kid were on either side of me, iron grips locked tight around my upper arms. I whimpered and tried to pull away, acting panicky, like a rabbit. They were weak animals, nice to look at, cute, but utterly useless and defenseless.  
I was going to be a rabbit for the next day.  
The Killjoys said nothing as they half-dragged me through the house I thought of as home for less than half of my life. I hated them for it, and I hated my parents for not having the gall to look me in the eye when I was dragged into the foyer, whimpering.  
“What, no heartfelt goodbyes?” Party Poison raised his eyebrows.  
“Mommy, Daddy, why are they taking me? Why are you letting them do this? What’s going on? Daddy?” I begged, blabbering in a way that grated on my own nerves. I hated the shaking, cowardly idiot I’d been reduced to.  
Both my parents looked up in shock, and saw me standing there – I finally looked like their perfect heiress daughter, I was finally respecting them, I was finally trying to be pretty and make them happy… and they were letting me be dragged away, traded to the most cruel, ruthless men in Jersey so they could be happy.  
My mom burst into tears, latching onto my dad, who looked just as broken. I tugged more urgently, as if I wanted to get back to them, hug them and never let go.  
Honestly, the sight of them still disgusted me.  
“I told you, they sold you to save their own stinking skins.” Party Poison sneered, almost as if he disapproved of their cowardice. “ _We_ own you, now.”  
I gave my parents a horrified look, going limp in my captors’ hold as if the horror of the situation was just now sinking in. “I thought you loved me.” I whispered brokenly, the sound hissing across the cavernous foyer. “I love you.” That was a blatant lie; the only person I had ever loved (and ever would) was Frank.  
My mom sobbed all the harder as my dad looked away, and I stared at them – as if shocked – as I was dragged out their front door, into the predawn light, and shoved into an unremarkable black car with illegally tinted windows. Fun Ghoul drove with Party Poison riding shotgun. I was in the backseat, still sandwiched between the Kobra Kid and Jet Star. I clasped my hands in my lap, gripping as tight as I could so they trembled; it looked like I was trying and failing to make them stop shaking.  
“Nice tattoos.” The Kobra Kid nodded, and Jet Star shifted slightly to look.  
“Hey, she knew she was ours.” He nodded at the American Widow on my right wrist, opposite where he sat, and the Kobra Kid looked at it, too.  
“I dunno, she seemed pretty surprised when we showed up.” He said slowly, and I could tell he was suspicious. Why hadn’t I thought that one through when I’d signed on for the ink?  
I shrank down in my seat, as if the men talking suddenly made them all the more terrifying.  
“Well, angel?” Jet Star asked, directing his attention actually _at_ me. “Why’s our spider inked on _you_?”  
“I… I wanted people to not mess with me.” I stuttered, stumbling over words. I’d never been shy, and this timid act was wearing thin with me. “It made me seem… tougher.” I squeaked, and all four men snickered.  
“You’re terrifying, sugar.” Party Poison’s hazel eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, clearly amused. At least it meant he was falling for it.  
“Terrifyingly idiotic.” Fun Ghoul muttered, and my cheeks flushed a dull red as I sunk down even deeper into the leather seat. I wanted my humiliation to swallow me. I closed my eyes, wishing it all away, hating myself for being vulnerable like this.  
 _It’ll be worth it when they’re bleeding out tonight._

The engine finally cut, and I was shoved unceremoniously out of the car only to find myself faced with another mansion. It was hard to keep my face from falling; I hated the things.  
“Look, Princess, it’s probably nicer than the palace you grew up in.” Fun Ghoul said, snatching my wrist before Jet Star or the Kobra Kid could get hold of me. He dragged me roughly forward, towing me behind him, the other Killjoys strolling along as we approached the front door. I stumbled as much as I could, falling to my knees once and gasping out as if wrecking the jeans I wore was horrific. Honestly, I liked the grass stains.  
What I didn’t like was the way Fun Ghoul kept dragging me along, not even slowing. I couldn’t get myself back up because it was a trick I’d learned on the streets with Frank. And this idiot called me ‘princess.’ Only one person was allowed to call me that, just like I was the only one allowed to call him ‘Frankie’.  
When we reached the door, Fun Ghoul paused for an instant to unlock it, letting me scramble to my feet. I gave my jeans the most mournful look I could muster, earning disgusted eye rolls from the Killjoys as Fun Ghoul suddenly yanked me inside, letting go so I wound up sprawling on the hardwood floor. Had we been on the streets, I would have caught my balance and smashed his teeth in before he could blink. But I wasn’t in some back alley in the middle of a fight, I was behind enemy lines, and I had to be a stupid fucking _rabbit_.  
“Hey, watch it. I bet she bruises easy.” Party Poison reprimanded lazily, stepping across the floor to me and grabbing the neck of my shirt, hauling me to my feet. I shrank away from him in terror, whimpering slightly. “Easy, sugar, I won’t bite.” He said gently, and I relaxed a bit, just in time for him to add wickedly, “Yet.”  
My eyes widened in fear again as I tried to pull out of his grip, but he rolled his eyes, effortlessly holding on to me before suddenly letting go. I stumbled back a step, flailing like a novice to keep my balance, and wound up backing into a wall with a soft _thump_.  
Jet Star, having closed and locked the front door, tugged off his helmet, the Kobra Kid following suit. I was shocked – they were my age, more or less. Jet Star had a frizzy, reddish afro that made him seem gentler, more fun than the helmet. The Kobra Kid had blonde hair – clearly dyed – and a rather angular face. Had the setting been different, I would have thought them cute.  
Party Poison pulled off his own mask, grinning as if wearing it bothered him. I wasn’t sure why he bothered with the mask; it didn’t hide his fire engine red hair, his hazel eyes, or even the majority of his pale face.  
Fun Ghoul was last, almost reluctantly pulling off his Frankenstein mask. When he did, I got the shock of my life, and had to work hard not to wreck the façade I’d built for myself.  
Because standing there, standing as one of the four men I’d sworn to kill, was my Frankie.  
My mental freeze was interrupted by Party Poison.  
“Since you’re staying here,”  
“And never leaving.” Jet Star cut in.  
“You can know our real names.” Party Poison continued as if never interrupted. “I’m Gerard. Kobra’s Mikey, Jet is Ray, and Ghoul is Frank.”  
I nodded mutely, still backed against the wall, my mind completely blank. _Frankie,_ my _Frankie, was one of them. This whole time, he was training me to kill him. I could do it, too, and he knows it. That’s why he was so worried when I told him I was going to kill them. I have to kill Frankie._  
“Sugar, don’t be like that.” Gerard smirked crookedly, slowly advancing on me, stopping right in front of me. Close. _Too_ close. He’d leaned his forearm on the wall above my head, his other hand deep in his pocket as he trapped me with his body.  
The realization dawned on me _now_ , after all these years, after all the careful planning and near-fatal training. After all the blood and sweat I’d put into resisting _exactly_ these situations on the Jersey streets, here I was in a mansion, unable to defend myself for the sake of vengeance.  
 _Why else would four ruthless men want a defenseless teenage girl around?_  
For the first time in longer than I could remember, fear – real _fear_ – flooded my mind, ransacking all the careful planning. Negating all the training. Everything just went completely out the window, because there was no way for me to stop this and still kill them all.  
 _“Revenge always comes with a price.”_ I hated myself for remembering that _now_ , especially since Frankie had said it to me, so long ago. Especially since Frankie would be exacting the toll and feeling the revenge.  
Gerard’s face was so close to mine, I could feel his warm breath on my face. I wasn’t sure why it surprised me, being so minty, but I guess I just assumed that everything about these men would be disgusting. Aside from what they’d done, they were pretty gorgeous.  
 _And how different are we, really? Haven’t I killed people? Stolen, lied, and fought for myself? How am I any better than them?_ I crushed the thought from my mind, feeling the fear leave me. I couldn’t sink lower than where I was. There was nothing for me to be afraid of, no way for this to get worse. It wouldn’t be pleasant, but I could hold out.  
“Now sugar, why don’t you tell us your name?” Gerard breathed, his lips _just_ brushing mine. Knowing I was already the lowest of the low, I felt no shame in admitting to myself that I had no objections. I hated myself for it, sure, but it was part of me and the horrible person I was.  
“Mara.” I said breathlessly, still trying to play the scared captive.  
“That wasn’t so scary, was it, Mara?” Gerard asked softly, still teasing me. I was just a teenage girl, and my hormones were giving me Hell for it.  
I didn’t answer, not sure what he wanted me to say. I wished he would either back off so I could think or just hurry up and kiss me. Of course I’d act the scandalized little captive and slap him if he chose the latter, but I didn’t care either way.  
He pulled away slightly, searching my eyes, which were wide and glassy. _Thank you, hormones and nonexistent love life. I really hope he thinks I’m terrified._ Gerard frowned slightly, then let his arm fall from the wall as he took a step back, still studying me. I stayed frozen against the wall, able to think again.  
Gerard looked away from me, at Mikey, the two of them sharing a look. They looked remarkably alike, and it made me wonder if they were related.  
“Flip it.” Mikey suggested, narrowing his eyes slightly. He and Gerard _must_ be related, I’d only ever seen siblings do the whole ‘silent conversation’ thing.  
Gerard pulled a quarter out of his pocket, flipping it high. “Call it.”  
“Heads.” Mikey replied, almost before Gerard had asked. He watched as his brother caught the coin, then held it out for validation. Mikey sighed, and Gerard grinned crookedly.  
“Sorry, baby bro. I’m up first.” Gerard said, then turned to me. “Alright sugar, from now on, you’re on _our_ schedule. Sleep all day, up all night. And, lucky you, you get to come with me today.” He winked, and I immediately caught the double meaning.  
 _I’m so fucked._  



	4. Demolition Lovers

Gerard lead me up to his room, a space I would have found pretty wicked under any other circumstances, including my own execution. I didn’t have much time to admire the scenery, however, because I wound up shoved face-first onto the soft, bouncy bed.  
 _Great, Hell feels like a cloud._ I thought, hoping I wasn’t going mad already. Then again, psychotic homicides usually have a higher success rate….  
The bed shifted, and I turned over to lie on my back, propped up on my elbows. Gerard stood on his knees, already straddling my legs, and I immediately started scrambling backwards.  
“Sugar, where’re you goin’?” Gerard murmured, shifting forward as I finally hit the headboard, cornered between it and the wall. He shuffled forward so he was right in front of me, his face almost touching my own. “Don’t make me chase you, sugar.”  
 _I do_ not _like his hair. I do_ not _like his eyes. He does_ not _smell amazing. I do_ not _like him calling me ‘sugar’. I don’t like the way he’s running his hand through my hair. I don’t like him touching my face. I don’t like this. I don’t like_ him _. I’m not lying to myself._  
Gerard was distracting me from my own distracting thoughts, one hand gently cupping my face, stroking my cheek with the pad of his thumb. His other hand had run through my hair a few times, then dropped onto my hip. He paused for an instant, then leaned in and gently pressed his lips to mine, kissing me slowly. I hesitated, then started kissing him back.  
I hadn’t expected him to be so… gentle. Careful. He was taking it slow, kissing me softly, not touching me anywhere inappropriate. After a moment, I hesitantly reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him slightly closer, inadvertently deepening the kiss. I didn’t mind, though; this was all new to me. And I was liking it.  
In that instant, I wasn’t sure who I hated more; the Killjoys, Gerard, or myself.  
The kiss deepened again when Gerard’s tongue slid along my bottom lip, seeking entrance, and I let him in. He pulled me closer to his body, shifting me away from the wall, pulling me with him as he lay down. Somehow, I was on top of him, his hands on my hips as we kissed, slowly building up the lust every teenager has felt.  
When his hands finally slid up my shirt, it seemed natural to take it off, and then his had to follow. The same with our jeans. And then everything else.  
That was when I got nervous.  
 _No, I don’t want to do this. This should be special, not with some idiot who thinks he_ owns _me [s]who I’m going to kill, anyway[/s]._ I thought, then my rationality came back. _There’s no such thing as romantic love. And your entire family sold you out – your parents, Frank, everyone. There’s no love at all. May as well get a good fuck in before we all go to Hell._  
Gerard’s hands were exploring my body, making me feel things I’d never even imagined were possible. He was so gentle, nothing was forced. Then again, I’d gone along with everything so far. He kissed down my neck, making me moan, nipping at my skin, and I shut my eyes.  
“Don’t worry, sugar,” Gerard’s hot breath was suddenly in my ear. “I’ll be gentle.”  
-  
Hours later, Gerard and I lay tangled in his sheets, panting, both of us somewhat disheveled. I wanted to get some rest before I went on my killing spree, so I closed my eyes and quit staring at the ceiling, letting my head tip to the side. Moments later, before I had the chance to fall asleep, gentle fingers carefully moved some of my hair away from my face.  
I opened my eyes, and found Gerard frowning at me thoughtfully. His gaze searched mine, but he must not have found what he was looking for, because his frown deepened, frustration stirring in his eyes.  
“Why didn’t you fight?” Gerard asked, not understanding.  
“I don’t want you to kill me.” I whispered, trying to sink into the mattress.  
“You were a fucking virgin, but you didn’t even say anything.” He couldn’t seem to make sense of me.  
I looked away, as if ashamed of myself. Let him think me an unwilling whore, at least. “If it wasn’t you, it would have been one of them.” I mumbled, nodding towards the door. “At least you were nice about it.” I realized that was entirely true. He _didn’t_ have to be nice about it. He could have made it Hell for me – that they hadn’t half-killed me _already_ was amazing, after everything I’d grown up knowing.  
Gerard sighed, and I glanced at him automatically. “You have it in your head that we’re awful, don’t you?”  
I just gave him a blank look. “Aren’t we all?”  
My answer seemed to surprise him, and he studied me even more intensely, making me shift uncomfortably. “I think you’ve got a point.” He finally nodded, and this time, he was the one to look away.  
After a moment, he glanced at me and caught me still watching him. Gerard gave me an ironic, crooked smile, then pulled me against him, cradling me like I might break. At that moment, I felt like I would. It was awful, just everything. Our world of violence, all the murder, knowing I was going to kill this man, realizing I’d just given up my virginity to have the chance to kill someone – all of it hit me, and hit me hard. I started trembling, and Gerard’s arms tightened around me.  
I flinched automatically, but he just started rubbing my back and my arms, mumbling incoherently. Even though I couldn’t quite catch what he was saying, I knew none of it was the harsh words I’d been ready for when I knew I was headed here.  
I finally gasped and just started sobbing silently into his chest, shaking in his arms as he promised everything was going to be okay.  
 _Gerard, I’m sorry I have to kill you today._  
But I wound up missing my chance. After I cried myself out, I fell asleep in Gerard’s arms.  
-  
“Wake up, sugar.” A soft voice murmured, echoing the vibrations rumbling through the chest beneath my ear. I was frozen in shock for a moment, then all the memories came flooding back.  
I opened my eyes as Gerard stretched slightly. We were still tangled together, wearing nothing but the sheets. Gerard relaxed, then looked at me. “Come on, we need a shower.”  
He whisked me off to the bathroom, carrying me in his arms – a good thing, too, because I was sore. He set me down carefully under the hot water before joining me.  
That morning, when he kissed me, he was a bit rougher, more demanding. I gave in, knowing I’d have to play the weakling for another day. Or night, or whatever the Hell it really was.  
Gerard pushed me back against the wall of the shower, pinning my body with his own, holding my wrists above my head with one hand while the other roamed my body. He slipped his tongue into my mouth without warning, deepening the kiss. I wasn’t sure if I liked it that time, and the way I was starting to feebly protest only seemed to make everything worse for me.

When he was finished with me and we were done in the shower, Gerard didn’t look at me. He collected clean clothes for himself, leaving me to put on what I’d worn when I was taken. I was confused – what had happened? How was he so different?  
I followed Gerard meekly towards the door, but he stopped when he reached it, rounding on me, and I shrank back in fear. He was scowling, his eyes hard as he glared at me.  
“I think I gave you the wrong impression last night.” Gerard’s voice was still soft, but dangerously so. “You _belong_ to us. We’re not your friends.” He reminded me. “Things are only going to get worse from here.”  
I swallowed nervously, nodding mutely, wide-eyed in faux fear. Gerard’s expression didn’t change as he studied me for a moment, then he turned on his heel and strode out the door, leaving me to stumble along in his wake.

“Mikey, she’s your problem today.” Gerard said shortly, stalking into what I soon discovered was the kitchen. His brother was already sitting at the table, eating toast and chatting idly with Ray.  
My day with Mikey wasn’t too horrible. We didn’t even leave the house; just stayed on the couch and watched old horror movies with Ray. I actually kind of enjoyed it. Mikey had me sitting on his lap, and he kissed me occasionally. I wished he wouldn’t, but I couldn’t make him stop without blowing my cover, so I just endured it. Every now and then, especially right after making out with Mikey, I saw Ray shooting jealous looks at his friend. These boys were really horny.  
Near sunrise, Frank burst in through the door, scowling.  
“What’s a’matter?” Ray asked, eyeing his short friend cautiously. “Girlfriend still a no-show?”  
Frank shot Ray a venomous glare. “She’s not my girlfriend; more like my _sister_.” He snarled, then ran a hand through his hair. “And it’s been two days. She showed up every day for ten years, and now… there was something wrong, and I didn’t get it out of her, and now… I dunno what happened to her.” Frank sighed, looking lost. It didn’t take a genius to realize he was worried about Smile. He was worried about _me_. “She was always scheming, and she had some really stupid stuff in mind, and now…” He barked a bitter laugh. “Now I have no idea what the Hell she’s thinking anymore.”  
“What’s so stupid?” Mikey asked, grinning. He was ready for some crackpot theory on contacting the little green men from Mars to come create peace on Earth and end world hunger.  
“Actually, a couple days before she disappeared, she told me the reason she started fighting was that so that she could kill us.” Frank rubbed the back of his neck.  
“Does she know you’re one of us?” Ray asked as Mikey gaped incredulously.  
Frank shook his head, not looking at them. “She could do it, too. She’s _that_ good.”  
“Well, _you’d_ be safe if she saw you. You’re best friends, girls get emotional about all that crap.” Mikey sighed, rolling his eyes. None of them seemed to care I was hearing all of this, or even that I was still there at all.  
“I don’t think so.” Frank said slowly. “I watched her do some pretty cold shit out there.” He shook his head. “I think she could kill me and laugh about it, honestly.”  
Mikey and Ray exchanged an uneasy look. “Does Gerard know about her?” Mikey finally asked, looking at Frank.  
“No!” Frank said, finally looking up, seemingly in alarm. “He _can’t_ find out about her! He’ll kill her!”  
“She’ll kill _us_!” Ray shot back, shocked.  
“She’s not even around anymore.” Frank retorted. “You know Gee’ll hunt her down just to be safe. Even if she gave up.”  
“Well, Frank, you’ve gotta know that if she just disappeared like that, she could be-” Mikey began carefully, but Frank cut him off, his voice flat and eyes dead.  
“If she’s dead, I don’t want to know.” He said, then shuffled off.  
Mikey sighed, returning his attention to the movie, but Ray looked at me.  
“You didn’t hear anything.” Ray informed me, and I nodded, wide-eyed.  



	5. (Turn it into Seduction) I'll Turn it into Some Facts

That night, Mikey lead me up to his room. He wasn’t as gentle as his brother, and it hurt, in more ways than one. I consoled myself that it was just for the night, once he fell asleep it would all be over.  
He finally passed out beside me, and I waited for a while before climbing shakily out of his bed and pulling my clothes back on. I hated wearing the same, dirty clothes over and over like this, but I wasn’t touching _his_. I slipped out the door, knowing I could sneak around without getting caught, and managed to slink down the dark hallway. Ray had left a knife on the coffee table in the living room, and that would be my first stop. Then I’d go creeping back to Mikey. Ray could be second, a thank-you for leaving out the knife. I wasn’t sure who I’d save for last: Gerard or Frank.  
As I slid down the hall, I’d almost made it to the stairs when I heard a noise. If I hadn’t been so on edge, I wouldn’t have even noticed, but it was an almost painful gasp. I frowned, freezing in place, then let my curiosity win out. _I’ve really gotta work on willpower._  
I moved towards the door the sound was coming from, knowing it was either Ray or Frank’s bedroom, and hesitated before peering around the door, which hung ajar.  
Frank was lying on his bed, fighting back tears, then he suddenly punched his mattress viciously and sat up, furiously wiping at his eyes. I wanted to go tell him everything would be okay, but that was a lie. I was going to kill him.  
Frank’s gaze lifted, and he froze, seeing me standing at the door. He immediately glared, his eyes narrowing as he slid off the bed, stalking towards me, already in an aggressive fighting stance. I started backing away, my eyes widening, freezing when I hit the opposite wall of the hallway. Frank, however, just kept coming.  
“What are you doing?” He snarled quietly, getting up in my face, and I flinched away, shutting my eyes and trying hard not to look at him.  
“I- I was just… I was thirsty. I’m sorry.” I stammered out, flinching as Frank roughly took hold of my chin and forced me to look at him. I let my eyes glaze over in apathy, knowing he would think I was just _that_ scared. It would hopefully stop him from recognizing my eyes.  
“You look at me when I’m talking to you.” Frank growled, then glanced up and down the hallway before grabbing my wrist and dragging me roughly into his room, locking the door behind us.  
 _Oh, God no. Not from him._ Please, _god, if you exist, don’t let my Frankie do this to me._ If Frank did that to me… I would never forgive him. I wouldn’t be able to. I wouldn’t feel bad for killing him when I did. I would only hurt myself, knowing I’d wasted ten years as his best friend. _Not my Frankie. Frankie would never,_ ever _do this to me. To_ any _girl. Not my Frankie_.  
Frank shoved me down onto his bed, even rougher than Mikey had, and I was immediately scared. I couldn’t fight Frank – even if I eventually killed him, we were too evenly matched for him to go down quietly. The other Killjoys would come running at the noise, and I would die before I killed them all. If I didn’t fight, Frank might actually kill me, here and now.  
He pinned me down, glaring harshly at me before he kissed me roughly, shoving his tongue down my throat. I started trying to push him away. I could resist as much as any hopeless heiress could, at least. I struggled underneath him, shoving on his chest and trying to turn my head away, which only made him angrier.  
He pulled away, letting me gasp for breath in the instant before his hand connected with my face. I froze, staring at him in shock, my cheek throbbing where he had slapped me. I could feel a cut that had opened up, right along my cheekbone. It wasn’t deep, but it was there.  
He used my shock to his advantage, pulling off my shirt before I blinked back into my head and started trying to get away from him again. “No, no, don’t.” I whimpered, but he wouldn’t let me go. “Frank, don’t.” He grabbed my hair, yanking me back in for another kiss, his hand fumbling with my pants as he forced his tongue into my mouth. He pulled away suddenly, and I gasped for breath as he started kissing down my neck, biting me, hurting me.  
I was in tears now, knowing this was ruining everything. Before, I could at least _pretend_ he was still my Frankie, but… my Frankie was gone. If he’d ever been real in the first place. Was _this_ really who my best friend was? I let a soft, gasping sob escape as the tears ran down my face. “Frankie, _please_.”  
Shit, I was gonna die. He’d killed other people for calling him that. Only Suicidal Smile could call him ‘Frankie’ and live. I wasn't Smile here, just Mara, and he was going to kill me.  
Frank had frozen, his lips still on my neck, before slowly raising his head to glare at me. I let myself keep crying, feeling blood leaking down from the cut on my cheek.  
“Please, don’t. Please.” I whimpered, and something flickered behind Frank’s eyes.  
Suddenly he sat up, shoving me roughly away from him as he turned his back on me. “Get out.” He said coldly. Any normal, sane person would have taken off, but… I still had the crazy urge to help my best friend. I knew something was bothering him, and I wanted to make him feel better.  
I tentatively moved forward, resting a hand gently on his shoulder.  
Impossibly fast, Frank whipped around to glare at me, catching my wrist in a grip that was painfully tight. “I _said_ ‘get out’.” He hissed, and I flinched. I guess there was no way to talk to him. Maybe it was better. Maybe hating him would make it easier to kill him. I _wished_ I could hate him.  
I jerked away from Frank, stumbling out of his room and into the hallway as I pulled my shirt back on, then tripping down the stairs as quietly as possible. He’d just moved to first on the hit list, because he was awake.  
I made it to the bottom of the stairs, and saw that the knife on the table was gone. So much for that. I’d have to raid the kitchen for something, then. I moved silently towards the door, my stride confident, and slipped inside, only to find the light on and the room occupied.  
The door closed silently behind me, and I froze there, wondering what to do. I couldn’t very well kill him – it would be too much noise, and the other Killjoys would hear and come running. _Tonight is just_ not _my night._  
Gerard chose that moment to turn around, holding a beer can from the fridge, his eyebrows raising in surprise when he saw me. “How’d you manage to sneak up on me?”  
I just gaped wordlessly, wondering how to explain what Frank had called my ‘ninja skills’. I shrank back slightly as Gerard popped the tab on the can, taking a sip as he studied me intently.  
“What are you doing, anyway?” He mused, then his eyes narrowed. “There’s no way out.” He thought I was running away, bless his heart. I’d never pictured the boys as naïve.  
“I was… thirsty.” I mumbled, knowing he wouldn’t believe that. He was dead set on thinking I was trying to run.  
Gerard raised his eyebrows, then crossed the room, offering his beer can. All I did was stare at it blankly, not understanding.  
“I thought you were thirsty.” Gerard said quietly, his voice dangerous.  
 _I’ve already put up with a lot of goddamn shit trying to kill you, so don’t you fucking_ dare _try to make me swallow that fucking poison._ I thought venomously.  
“I… I’m n-not 21.” I stammered, wide-eyed.  
“You think that matters?” Gerard sneered, snickering.  
“I-I don’t … drink alc-ohol.” I shrank back even more, hoping he wasn’t going to hit me. There was nothing I wanted more than to beat his pretty boy face off the fucking walls, and the last thing on my mind was pretending to cry about some little bitch slap.  
“Why the fuck not?” Gerard demanded, and I looked away. That was personal. Gerard waited for a moment, then grabbed my shirt with one hand, lifting me up a bit and pinning me to the wall, all without spilling a drop of his damn beer. “When I ask you a question, you answer me. And you answer instantly and honestly.”  
I nodded, gasping for air – he was strangling me with my shirt. I hated being so small, it was a major disadvantage in fights. Even _Frank_ was taller than me.  
Gerard let me fall, and I sucked in as much air as I could, my hands dramatically clutching my throat as I rasped an answer.  
“My mom’s an alcoholic. She’s awful when she’s drunk. Daddy says it’s poisoning everything.” I said. It was the truth, I wouldn’t touch alcohol because of the way it made my mom – she screamed, she cried, she broke things. She hated everyone and everything. Especially herself and me. She hated herself for drinking, and did it more to escape her thoughts. She only drank in the first place because she felt guilty about trading me away. She hated me for learning to fight. I’d only ever told Frankie about her drinking problem, why I wouldn’t touch alcohol. Everyone else on the streets thought it was to keep a clear head while I was on edge.  
“Oh.” Gerard sounded almost… surprised. He blinked, staring at the beer can, and – for an instant – I thought he’d relent. Then his eyes hardened again, and he pushed the poison at me. “Well, get used to it.”  
I flinched again, but just turned my head away from the drink, knowing it was a bad decision for any helpless little heiress. When he slapped me, I felt it, but he hadn’t _meant_ it like Frank. It stung, but there was no throbbing, no cut.  
“That was a warning.” Gerard said softly, his eyes dangerous. “Next time, sugar, I won’t be so nice.”  
I nodded, dropping my gaze to the floor.  
“What happened to your face?” I glanced up at Gerard, who was frowning. Had he already forgotten – oh, he was looking at where Frank hit me.  
“I… got slapped.” I mumbled, staring at my feet again.  
“By _Mikey_?” Gerard asked incredulously, and I shook my head. “Then who?”  
“F-Frank.” I breathed. I hated myself for tattling.  
The red-haired man was frowning again, but he seemed done with me. “Alright sugar. Let’s get you back to Mikey, hmm?” He took my arm and steered me out of the room, back towards the stairs, stopping outside his brother’s door. I glanced up at him and found his hazel eyes studying me intently, but I only met his gaze for an instant. Then he had me pushed against the wall, kissing me.  
This man was confusing the Hell out of me. He was being all gentle and careful again. I just didn’t understand.  
When Gerard finally pulled away, I was almost disappointed. As much as I hated both of us, I really enjoyed kissing him.  
“Be a good girl and go to sleep now, alright sugar?” Gerard breathed, gently stroking my hair. I just nodded, and he let go of me, watching as I slipped into Mikey’s room.  
“Where were _you_?” Mikey asked as I slid back under the covers, waking up.  
“I was thirsty.” I whispered, freezing as he stretched and opened his eyes.  
Mikey smirked at me, pulling me down on top of him. “Needed water?” he breathed in my ear, and I nodded mutely as his hands traveled my body. “Funny, I think I need something, too.”  
I whimpered slightly, wishing the Universe would give me a break.  



	6. As Long as Someone'll Bleed

“Here you go, Ray.” Mikey smiled, leading me into the kitchen. I’d been able to clean up, and had been presented with clothes cast off by previous girlfriends; a red, cutoff tank top (that hugged me more than I liked) with a black lacy bra underneath and clean black skinny jeans. My motorcycle boots were ‘sexy’ enough to pass Mikey’s inspection, apparently, because I got to keep them. “She’s all yours.”  
“Alright angel, we’re gonna have some fun today.” Ray grinned at me, though it wasn’t the creepy grin I’d expected. It was definitely too wicked to be nice, however.  
“Wha-at kind of… fun?” I asked timidly, as Mikey wandered across the kitchen, fishing through the cupboard next to where Gerard stood. He and Ray had been talking before I went in.  
“We plan on keeping you around for a while.” Gerard answered slowly, making my gaze jump to him from Ray. “So you’re gonna have to learn to fight.”  
“Welcome to Hell, Day 1.” Frank’s voice said from the door behind me, and I automatically spun to face him, startled. I barely stopped myself from attacking, and bit my lip as I suppressed the urge to sink into a fighting stance.

Not long after, I was in the basement with Ray. The others had all gone out to terrorize the city, threaten thugs, the works.  
I swallowed nervously, half-heartedly and incorrectly mirroring the fighting stance Ray had sunk into. Biting my lip, I asked, “Just how am I learning?” I pitched my voice high and breathy, like even the words were too scared to come out and face the tall man.  
“The best way.” Ray grinned. “Through experience.” He lunged forward, kicking my legs out from under me. “Tsk, tsk.” He grinned, shaking his head reproachfully. “You’ve gotta be faster than that.”  
“I wasn’t ready!” I squeaked, and he grabbed my shirt, yanking me up, lifting me clean off the floor.  
“You’ll never be ready in a _real_ fight.” He growled a lesson I’d already learned into my face, and I had to flinch, giving up the staredown before it even began. Without warning, Ray let go of my shirt, shoving me backwards. When I hit the ground, I had to let myself fall again – spoiled princesses couldn’t catch themselves.  
I scrambled shakily to my feet, raising my fists like a prizefighter, making Ray laugh.  
The Killjoy swung at me, sinking one fist into my stomach and kneeing me in the face when I curled forward. I dropped to my knees, groaning with my arms wrapped around my stomach, and he kicked me over, onto my side.  
“Get up!” He barked, and I blinked up at him, acting dazed. The cut where Frank had hit me had opened up, as well as a new one above my eye where the brunt of Ray’s shot had hit me. I was careful to take uneven, quick breaths, hitching as if I were crying, as I blinked furiously up at him, imagining all the horrible things I would do to him if I could.  
Then it hit me.  
The other Killjoys weren’t here to save him.  
And by the time they got back, there could be an ambush ready and waiting.  
My gasping breaths stopped abruptly, and I froze as my eyes widened, reveling in my epiphany.  
Ray gave me an uneasy look, probably wondering if he’d broken me. He _did_ think me to be pretty fragile, after all.  
I looked up, meeting his gaze, and climbed to my feet. I straightened up completely for the first time, not curling over in faux fear, twisting my neck and hearing it crack satisfyingly as I rolled my shoulders, loosening up. My eyes went from fearful to icy, the eyes that had freaked so many people out on the streets.  
Ray furrowed his brow at me, not realizing what was going on.  
I smiled, a reckless, vicious expression on me. “Enough fooling around.” I told him, my voice as cold as my eyes as it hissed through the room. “Show me what you’ve _really_ got.”  
Ray looked shocked, and was still off-guard when I leapt at him, landing vicious strikes on his face and stomach. This was the first of my payback, the beginning of the end.  
Ray recovered quickly, using brute strength to shove me away, but I didn’t let it phase me. I hit the ground and started circling him, grinning. He turned slowly on the spot, not letting me get behind him, wondering what the hell was going on. I could see the confusion behind his eyes, watching how feeling so out of control was unnerving him.  
Ray was scared, poor man.  
I darted in, feinting a swing he ducked to miss, and landing a cruel hit on the back of his head, making him grimace in pain. He kicked out at me, catching my ribcage, but I moved with his momentum, watering down the force as I let myself be pushed out of his range.  
I ducked a swing, grabbing his wrist and twisting his arm behind his back, levering it up in one swift movement as he cried out in pained surprise. I swept his legs out from under him and let myself fall with him, still pinning his arm as he landed facedown on the floor, grunting on impact. I lay right on top of him, and immediately pounded my free hand viciously into the side of his face. I felt his cheekbone break and grinned even wider, not caring that my knuckles had split open.  
Ray used his free hand to turn over, pinning me under his back, but I wasn’t worried – I still had his other arm in the painful lock behind his back. When he went to get up, I wrapped my free arm around his throat, choking him and holding him down.  
“ _I_ ,” I breathed in his ear, morbidly happy, “am not a fucking _angel_.” I said, then released him, shoving him up as I leapt up myself. Ray staggered when he reached his feet, and I waited for him to recover.  
Ray stared at me bleakly, knowing how this was going to end as he sank into a fighting stance again.  
“Frank was right.” I said, knowing the man was confused. “I didn’t know he was a Killjoy.” I shrugged carelessly as Ray’s eyes widened. “But I’m still going to kill him, too.”  
I launched myself at Ray, beating him mercilessly. I let him hit me as many times as he wanted, relishing the pain, reveling in the blood, letting the adrenaline and the fury drive me stronger, faster, harder than anything else could. I was more savage than usual, not going for the quick kill, wanting to drag this out, make it as painful as possible.  
It was because of the Killjoys that this world of fighting, drugs, rape, and violence existed. It was the Killjoys who had brought me here. It was because of the Killjoys I’d been thrown into this godforsaken world. Every bruise, cut, scar, and broken bone I’d earned fighting had all been because of the Killjoys.  
And this was my revenge.  
I knocked Ray down again, and he fell heavily to the floor, beaten and bloody. I grinned down at him for a moment before I straddled his chest. He coughed up blood as I settled onto him, and I just started pummeling him mercilessly. I’d break his neck in a minute, but I wanted him to feel the pain I’d felt for the last _ten fucking years_.  
“Holy shit.” Said a now-familiar voice from the doorway, and I mentally cursed myself. I’d taken too long to get my revenge, and now I could only kill Ray.  
“Get the fuck off him!” Yelled another voice, and I felt a sharp pain in my upper arm.  
“ _Motherfucker_!” I growled, then grabbed the hilt of the knife in my arm with my free hand, raising it. Ray didn’t deserve death on a blade, but it’s what he was getting.  
Out of nowhere, I was tackled, knocked clear off Ray as my assailant’s momentum skidded us a short way across the floor.  
I twisted in his grip, seeing Mikey, and tried to stab _him_ , but Gerard stepped on my wrist, pinning my hand. My other arm was pinned between myself and Mikey, who lay on top of me. Frank was helping Ray up, half-dragging him to sit on the stairs.  
I kneed Mikey, making him grimace, but he didn’t even loosen his grip until I slammed my forehead against his, making him grunt. I twisted away from him, kicked Gerard’s ankle to get him off my wrist, and levered to my feet, holding the knife casually as I stood, glaring at them, blood smeared on my face and neck, splattered on my arms up to my elbows. It was a mix of Ray’s and my own, but I didn’t really care. What mattered was that I had failed. I should have stuck to my original plan, killed them all in their sleep.  
“Smile?” Frank asked incredulously, moving away from where Ray sat on the stairs, holding his head and slumped against the wall.  
“No _shit_ , Einstein.” I glared, then whipped the knife at him. He’d been around me for too long, and he knew it was coming, so he ducked it.  
“ _You’re_ Frank’s friend?” Mikey asked incredulously from where he stood next to Gerard. “The one who’s going to kill us all?”  
Gerard raised his eyebrows at his brother, but remained silent. Mikey’s eyes stayed locked on me.  
I shrugged. “Obviously it’s not working out too well for me. Patience was never something I was good at.” I observed him coolly, ignoring Frank, who was just staring at me in shock, now holding the knife I tossed. My arm was sheeting blood, but I didn’t bother stemming the flow, just let it drip from the ends of my fingers.  
“Who _are_ you?” Gerard demanded, but I just smiled at him, somewhat maniacally.  
“She’s the girl I was always training with.” Frank mumbled. “She’s Suicidal Smile.”  
Mikey stiffened, obviously having heard of me, which only made my grin widen. I leered at him, wishing he’d come just a _little_ closer.  
“I see how she got the name.” Gerard scoffed, then he traded a look with Frank, nodding almost imperceptibly at me.  
I saw the cue, so as soon as Frank moved, I whipped around to meet him, stopping the hand with the knife. He actually looked upset about being ordered to kill me, but that didn’t stop him from fighting his hardest.  
I fought back with everything I had, telling myself over and over that he wasn’t _my_ Frankie anymore. Between the two of us, we weren’t getting anywhere, just blocking each other, letting each other land minor hits in the hopes of tricking an opening out of one of us.  
Suddenly, I kicked Frank’s ankles out from under him, something I’d always done in the past. Frank lost his grip on the knife when he hit the floor, sending it skittering away, wincing on impact before opening his eyes and calmly meeting my gaze. He just lay there, and I glared at him impatiently.  
“Get up.” I snarled, clenching my right fist. My left hand, the one attached to the arm that had gotten knifed, wasn’t working. I couldn’t even feel it, let alone move it.  
“No.” Frank said simply, the ghost of his usual smile just touching his lips.  
“Why the fuck not?” I demanded, well aware that Gerard and Mikey were watching. I wasn’t sure if Ray was conscious at the moment.  
“You won’t kill me if I’m just laying here.” Frank had the guts to grin at me, crossing his arms behind his head.  
“I didn’t have a problem when it was _him_ down there.” I nodded at Ray, though my gaze never left Frank as I glared, my eyes narrowed in irritated impatience.  
“You wouldn’t still be arguing if you had an issue.” Frank shrugged nonchalantly. “Besides, I’m just sitting here. Ray was trying to get you off him.”  
I glared at Frank venomously. “Just get the fuck up.”  
“Were you really going to kill us all in our sleep? I don’t think you could live with yourself doing that, and you couldn’t pick us off without us catching you.” Frank mused. “I don’t get what you were planning.”  
I snarled wordlessly, grabbing Frank by the front of his shirt and hauling him to his feet with my good hand, shoving him back. Frank just raised his hands, palms out, grinning until my hand connected with his face. I didn’t punch him, it wasn’t the hook we’d been working on before the world went even further to Hell, it wasn’t even something I’d learned on the streets.  
It was the same way he’d slapped me the night before, and it wiped the stupid grin right off his face as he realized what had almost happened – what he _had_ done.  
He blinked as I glared at him, neither of us moving for a moment, and the look Frank gave me was so pitifully hurt that I just wanted to hug him and promise everything would be okay.  
But one of us was going to die, and it wasn’t going to be me.  
I dove at him, wanting nothing more than to tear him to shreds, but I was almost immediately ripped off of him by Mikey, who tried to throw me to the ground.  
I went down, but yanked him along with me, kicking him over me as I rolled to my feet, about to fall on him when Frank caught me from behind, giving his friend a chance to get up.  
I kicked Frank, twisting away from him, only to meet Mikey, who landed a vicious hit in my stomach, making me lurch forward as I glared at him. He grabbed my bad arm as Frank held my right, the two of them struggling to hold me as I kicked at them, twisting in their arms.  
I kicked the back of Frank’s legs, making him drop to his knees, but he didn’t let go. In fact, he pulled me down with him, so I knelt beside him. Frank wouldn’t let go or get up, and I couldn’t get up, either.  
Gerard finally stepped up in front of me, and I felt the hatred flare, enough that I wrenched my arm away from Mikey and slammed my already-numb elbow into his face before lunging at Gerard. He caught my flailing arm, probably in a painful grip, but I couldn’t feel it because of whatever damage had been done to my nerves at that point.  
I jerked Frank up so I could stand tall in front of Gerard, glaring at him viciously.  
“ _What_ are we going to do with you?” Gerard mused quietly, studying me with mild interest.  
“Kill me?” I suggested dryly, raising an eyebrow.  
“No, no, that would be a waste.” Gerard frowned slightly. “We’re keeping you, I just have to figure out _how_.”  
I raised my eyebrows at him. “I’m nobody’s _pet_.” I said, my voice perfectly civil as Frank gave me a wary look.  
“Um, Gee, bad idea.” Frank said, not looking at me.  
“I think we can handle her.” Gerard shrugged carelessly, and my anger flared again.  
I lashed out, kicking him hard in the chest, sending him stumbling back a step.  
Gerard didn’t lose his grip on my wrist – if anything, I think it tightened – but anger flashed in his own eyes. “Enough of this ‘sharing’ shit.” He said. “From now on, you’re _mine_.”  
Gerard shoved my arm back into Mikey’s grip, then turned away, moving to where Ray was slumped on the stairs. He picked his friend up, calling over his shoulder, “Lock her in my room.” Before he disappeared to take care of Ray.  
I fought viciously the entire time, until the two of them eventually had to stop and readjust their grip – Frank grabbed my ankles, crossing them and clamping my legs together, while Mikey had one arm around my waist, using his free hand to pin my wrists to my back at angles that nearly broke my shoulders and elbows. I could barely even thrash around as they carried me, but I tried my damndest.  
Frank struggled to open Gerard’s door as I did my best to kick his lights out, then he and Mikey flung me unceremoniously through the door. I hit the floor hard, rolled, and leapt to my feet, lunging at the door as it slammed shut. I hit it not even an instant after it locked from the outside, and I slammed into it again, shaking it in its frame.  
“Well, shit.” Mikey muttered, and I slammed the side of my fist against the door.  
“Put something big in front of it – she knows how to take hinges apart, and she could probably break the door, anyway.” Frank sighed, and I snarled, slamming into the door with my shoulder, putting all my weight into it. The wood groaned in complaint, bowing alarmingly.  
“Sounds good.” Mikey immediately agreed, and I used the next few minutes to put a decent crack in the door before it was suddenly solid, no longer bending beneath me.  
“Smile, there’s a dresser there. You’re not moving it.” Frank yelled.  
“Fuck you, you motherfucking _ass_ hole!” I snarled back. I heard Mikey snicker, and that had me seeing red. “Why don’t you and Mikey go fuck each other? He’d probably like it more than he liked me!”  
Mikey shouted an offended ‘hey’, but Frank was silent for a moment.  
“Dude, you screwed my best friend?”  
I gave the door the same incredulous stare Mikey was probably giving Frank.  
“I’m not your fucking _friend_!” I screeched, attacking the door with everything I had. “When I get out of here, I’m going to fucking _kill_ you! I’m going to make you watch me kill all of your fucking _friends_ , first! And then I’m going to kill my-fucking- _self_ and hunt you down in the deepest rings of _Hell_ to do it all the fuck again!”  
I kept screaming, ramming the door, and the crack widened a bit, but refused to shatter. I screamed until my voice broke, and my hands were even bloodier, having been torn up by the splintering door. I breathed heavily, glaring at the door, relishing the silence.  
I slammed my fist against the door one last time, then dropped to my knees, woozy from the blood loss. I gave the cut on my arm a tired look out the corner of my eye, then let my eyes flutter shut as I fell to the side, the darkness taking over.  



	7. You Can Cry All You Want to, I Don't Care

I flinched, hissing, and tried to move away from the sting, but something stopped me. There was something around my wrist, holding me down.  
I forced my strangely heavy eyes open, snarling, and found I was handcuffed to Gerard’s _bed_. His headboard, to be exact. My ankles had been handcuffed to the opposite end of the bed, and the man he himself was sitting next to me, leaning slightly over me. He was observing me with a mild expression, a bloody rag in his hand that stunk like disinfectant. He’d been cleaning up the cut on my arm.  
“Get the fuck away from me.” I hissed, my voice still gone from all the screaming before. My knuckles were neatly bandaged, as well as the cut above my eye where Ray had kneed me.  
“Now how would that help you?” Gerard asked, and I glared at him.  
“It would make me very happy.” I snarled with a sarcastic smile. “Now fuck off.”  
Gerard frowned, then pain exploded on the side of my face, snapping my head to one side. “That wasn’t polite.” He said. “Now answer my question.”  
“Oh, what? I’m suddenly not going to be your little sex toy and now you can hit me?” I sneered, spitting blood onto him.  
“In case you haven’t realized, you’re handcuffed to my bed.” Gerard glared. “And I can hit you because I was only raised not to hit _ladies_.”  
“Oh, you fucking bastard.” I muttered, glaring at him, then shrugged and grinned at him crookedly. “Touché.”  
“Are you bipolar or something?” Gerard asked in what almost sounded like amusement, going back to wiping my bloody cut. He was casual about it, but I could tell he was watching me for any sign he had to hit me again.  
“Nah. Just rational.” I closed my eyes, relaxing. The disinfectant stung like a bitch, but I could zen out for a while, think the pain away. Frankie had taught me that.  
“How so?” Gerard inquired, and I felt him shift slightly, pulling the rag away from my arm, then lean back in as gauze wrapped around my arm. “Too tight?”  
“Can’t feel anything.” I replied. “And I’m complying, obviously. It’s stupid not to, really; you won’t fucking kill me, and I’m no masochist.”  
“Anything?” Gerard asked, and I opened my eye to find him prodding at my arm.  
“Nope.” I answered. “Can’t move my hand, either.”  
“Didn’t mean to get you _that_ bad.” Gerard mumbled, and I gave him an unimpressed look.  
“Hey, Einstein, ya missed.” I said dryly, and Gerard gave me a look. I grinned at him like the Cheshire fucking Cat before his fist reconnected with my face, giving him the same look after I cracked my neck back into place and turned my head to face him again.  
“No, I hit where I was aiming.” Gerard shrugged, as if his hand hadn’t just reunited with the bruise that was probably shaped like it.  
“And why _haven’t_ you killed me?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. Gerard didn’t look up from bandaging my arm, but he answered.  
“I have a feeling you’ll be useful.”  
“And why would I cooperate?” I asked. “If I don’t you’ll just kill me, and if you don’t kill _me_ , I’ll just kill you.” I shrugged. I _really_ didn’t understand him.  
“What if we were going to kill your parents? Would you cooperate then?” He asked, looking me dead in the eyes, serious about it. He seriously thought it would get to me.  
“Kill ‘em.” I snorted. “I’ll fucking help.” He gave me an incredulous look, and I rolled my eyes. “What, no smack for bad language?”  
His fist hit me again, in the same spot as before, and I laughed bitterly. “ _There_ it is.” I nodded, grinning crookedly up at him. It was that kind of smile when you appreciate something, even though it’s horrible.  
“Use whatever fucking language you want, just watch you manners.” Gerard replied.  
“Never had any to watch.” I cackled. “’Sides, you can’t hurt my folks, no matter how much they fucking deserve it. That’s why you’ve got me in the first place, innit? They sold me to save their own fucking skins.”  
“What about your friends? You and Frank were pretty tight, he probably knows who you care about.” Gerard said, reaching out to toy with the small ring I wore on my choker chain. There were three small butterflies on the thin, double line of wire.  
“Paws off.” I snapped, not even breaking my gaze when Gerard hit me again. “Oh, find a new spot, dipshit. I can’t feel my fucking face anymore.”  
“Why would you tell me that?” Gerard sighed, shaking his head before smashing the other side of my face.  
“’Cause eventually, I won’t feel anything.” I replied, spitting more blood out of my mouth, onto the floor this time.  
Gerard didn’t meet my eyes, instead he stared at the ring I wore, still toying with it. He was pissing me off.  
“Who gave you this?” He asked. “We’ll find him. Kill him if you don’t want to cooperate.”  
“Nobody gave it to me.” I snapped. “I _used_ to have a so-called best fucking friend, but he’s on death row as far as I’m concerned. That ring is _mine_.”  
“You seem to like it.” Gerard remarked. “What if I take it?”  
My heart skipped a beat, and my throat suddenly burned as I glared at him, tears of fury in my eyes. I glanced away just as his eyes darted up and caught me being all fucking _emotional_.  
“You’d be upset, wouldn’t you?” He asked. I deserved it, I’d pushed him to the point of goading me like this, but I wished like Hell he’d shut up. “If I took it?”  
“You already _did_.” I spat, glaring at the floor, telling myself that the tears I were holding back were just because I was so furious. Suddenly, the chain around my neck felt like it was burning me. “Just fucking take it.”  
Gerard stopped toying with the ring, letting it fall back onto my collarbone. I flinched when the slight weight touched me, hating the feel of it. It was crushing the air out of my chest, burning a collar around my throat. I couldn’t wear it anymore.  
“I said ‘take it’.” I growled, not looking at him.  
“Why should I?” Gerard asked.  
“Just get it the fuck _off_ of me!” I screamed, trying to rip my bad hand out of the handcuffs. At least I wouldn’t feel it when it broke, and I could rip the stupid chain off my neck. The fucker sitting next to me could do whatever the Hell he wanted to me, as long as I got the damn choker ring off.  
Suddenly, Gerard was leaning over me, his hands pinning my shoulders to the bed as he held me down. “Christ, sugar, relax.” He murmured, but I just thrashed harder, nearly yanking my hand out of the restraint. Gerard reached up, pinning my forearm down so I couldn’t break my hand. His eyes dropped down to meet my gaze, but he was disappointed – my eyes were screwed tightly shut as I scrunched my face, almost physically feeling the ring. It hadn’t bothered me until he’d said something, I’d lived with it for so long….  
“Mara, stop.” Gerard said, and suddenly I felt the chain snap off my neck. “It’s gone, okay?”  
I stopped fighting, just laying limply beneath him, my eyes shut tight and my breathing uneven. _They really did take **everything**._  
“It’s gone.” Gerard repeated softly, and I opened my eyes, not looking at him. I fucking _hated_ emotions. Especially my own. I couldn’t look at him, I just turned my head away. He was still straddling me, one hand resting on my bad arm, absentmindedly pinning it, while he studied the ring and broken chain in his other hand. “What’s so bad about it, anyway?” He asked, frowning at me. Butterflies must have seemed pretty harmless to him.  
“I can’t wear it.” I said shortly.  
“That’s not an answer.” Gerard warned, his voice gentle. Apparently, me going all psycho _emotional_ made me a ‘lady’ in Gerard’s Big Book of Twisted Manners.  
“Then you can fucking hit me. I don’t give a shit.” I still wasn’t looking at him, but I was back in control, safely locked inside my own head. “It won’t make me tell you anything.” I waited, but nothing happened. After a moment, I turned to look at Gerard, frowning in confusion. He was still trying to figure out the ring. “ _What_ is your obsession?”  
“Why does this bother you more than the thought of me killing your parents?” Gerard asked, looking up at me. “Why was this so much more important than everything else? How’d I ‘already take it’ if I didn’t even notice it ‘til now?”  
“Because that was _mine_. My parents weren’t something I chose, weren’t something I wanted. They can go rot in Hell, for all I care. Then again, that means I’d have to see them again, sometime.” I mused, somewhat sidetracked before I shrugged, sliding back into the other train of thought. “I guess I’ve got nothing left to care about ‘cept killing you Killjoys.” I glared at Gerard.  
Gerard grinned at me crookedly. “Good luck, sugar.” He closed his hand around the ring and the broken chain it still hung from, then bent down to kiss my forehead. He slid off the bed, tugging off his shirt and shimmying out of his jeans as I pointedly looked away. “What, don’t like the show?” Gerard teased as he walked back to the bed in his boxers. I narrowed my eyes, glaring at him. He just slid onto the bed, straddling me on his hands and knees as I glared up at him.  
“Now, I’m going to unlock you, and you’re going to sleep nicely right here with me.” Gerard informed me, smirking crookedly. I was going to knock his over-inflated head right off his shoulders if he thought he could tell me what to do.  
“Fuck you.” I growled.  
“If you want.” Gerard smirked, knowing he was pissing me off. I strained at the chains, wanting to pound his pretty boy face inside out, but his stupid grin only widened. “Easy, sugar, let me unlock you, first.” Then he leaned down, making me freeze when I felt his breath on my neck. “Unless you want me to leave them on?”  
“I want you and these stupid handcuffs off of me, _now_.” I growled, and Gerard sat up, faking a pout.  
“Now _that_ wasn’t very nice.” He said, making me roll my eyes in disgust. “Say ‘please’.”  
I gave him a look that screamed ‘bitch, please’. “I think I’m going to strangle myself with these.” I smiled at him, nodding once. “Watch.” I shifted until I had the chain wrapped around my neck, then smirked back at Gerard.  
“You’re bluffing.” Gerard said, his eyes narrowed.  
“Try me. You have five seconds.” I replied seriously, my eyebrows raised. I wondered if he’d let me do it; it would save me a lot of trouble.  
Gerard just watched me, trying to call my bluff, for his five seconds.  
“Time’s up.” I shrugged nonchalantly. “Tell Frank I’ll be waiting to shred him in Hell.” I said mildly, then shifted, pulling the chain tight around my neck, cutting off the breath I was in the middle of releasing. The cool metal felt nice, almost soothing against my skin, and I was already starting to get dizzy, my eyes unfocusing.  
Gerard was still just staring at me, but he looked sort of uneasy. At least he _did_ – as the seconds ticked by, colorful spots began to drift across the blurry shapes the world had been reduced to, then all the color started to fade as black spots replaced everything else, spreading across my vision.  
“Mara?” I heard, but it sounded far away, sort of echoing in the darkness.  
I smiled, feeling weightless.  
 _It’s finally over._

Suddenly, air flooded through my throat, gasping down into my lungs, and I coughed. It felt like my esophagus was bruised, and my lungs felt like they’d been torched. _Damnit, I must have loosened my grip._ Coughing even more, I opened my eyes, hating myself for being so weak, and found Gerard staring at me, his wide eyes somewhat relieved.  
“Jesus _Christ_ , don’t ever fucking do that again.” He sighed, backing off so he wasn’t in my face anymore.  
I shifted, and realized that he’d unlocked me. I hadn’t unconsciously given up. I wasn’t weak. _Wait, he unlocked me?_ I sat up, scooting away from Gerard and sitting Indian-style against the headboard, cradling my hands in my lap, using my working hand to massage the wrist of my bad hand; even though I couldn’t feel the pain from the cuffs, I knew it was supposed to hurt as bad as the one I couldn’t rub. I eyed Gerard warily as he moved forward, carefully taking hold of my better-but-no-longer-good wrist. It was bloody from the handcuffs, bruised, and dislocated. It hurt like Hell, even just the gentle way Gerard was holding it.  
Gerard watched my face closely as I gritted my teeth, clenching my jaw in pain, grimacing. I didn’t look at him – in fact, I closed my eyes and turned my face away, curling my lips back in a silent snarl. Everything would hurt so much fucking _worse_ tomorrow….  
I stiffened in surprise as Gerard started to carefully rub my wrist, the feeling starting to come back. Without warning, he popped it back into the joint, making me hiss at him, but he continued as if nothing had happened. After the initial moment of ‘holy fuck that hurt’, it actually started to feel better.  
I yanked my wrist away, glaring at him. “What the Hell?” I asked. “You make no fucking sense.”  
Gerard shrugged. “I figured it’d be one less thing for you to whine about all day tomorrow.”  
That actually made sense – but only because he didn’t know that I don’t complain about physical pain.  
Gerard’s eyes dropped from mine, taking in my torn, bloody, way-too-tight outfit. “Go put on something less… wrecked.” He said, making me raise an eyebrow. “There’s stuff in the top drawer.” He nodded at his dresser, and I narrowed my eyes before sliding off the bed. Turning my back on him didn’t bother me; he refused to kill me, and, frankly, what hadn’t he already done?  
I opened the drawer, half-expecting it to be some disgusting lingerie, but was confronted with sweatpants and big t shirts. Big t shirts were the _best_ pajamas ever. Sweatpants were more ‘eh’ – I preferred guy boxers – but I’d take them any day. I grabbed a random pair of pants and an AFI shirt, then glanced over my shoulder.  
Gerard lay on the bed with his back to me. I guess he really _was_ raised to be a gentleman. I wondered if he loved his mom, if he held onto his manners for her.  
I went and changed in the bathroom anyway.  
I padded out of the bathroom, and a little piece of my brain called for me to kill Gerard as he lay there, naively having turned his back on me, sound asleep and defenseless. I sighed, knowing I wouldn’t do it. I’d rather fight him, kill him by being fair-and-square better, and slipped under the comforter next to him. I’d be sore enough the next day without sleeping on the floor.  
I exhaled once, laying on my back, relaxing my muscles one by one and closing my eyes. Gerard had killed the lights when he changed, so I was ready to pass out again . It had been a long day.  
A few moments after I’d relaxed and let myself zen out, Gerard shifted next to me. I cracked an eye open to watch as he sat up slightly, reaching over to put something on his night table.  
I smiled as he settled back down, still not turning towards me.  
He hadn’t been sleeping. He’d been holding onto a huge, sharp knife, waiting for me to jump him.  
Smart bastard.  



	8. When They Knock You Down and Out, It's Where You Oughtta Stay

The next morning, I sort of drifted awake without opening my eyes, refusing to move any muscle at all, knowing there’d be Hell to pay for it. Of course, I wound up shifting – just a bit, not even really _moving_ – and white-hot pain lanced through me. “ _Motherfucker_.” I hissed, grimacing, and I heard a soft laugh beside me. “As soon as I open my eyes, I’m going to fucking kill you.” I growled, then groaned as I stretched. “Oh, Jesus fucking _Christ_ I hate that feeling.” I said, then cracked my neck. “Ah, never mind.” I sighed, relaxing again. I was ready to go back to sleep, but Gerard had other ideas.  
“No way, sugar. Get up.” Gerard said cheerfully.  
“I’m too tired to kill you. Come back next week.” I waved at the direction his voice was coming from, then turned onto my side so my back was to him. I bit back all the curses that wanted to escape, remembering what he’d said about me complaining last night. I was _not_ going to whine like a fucking princess.  
“Don’t make me, make you.” Gerard sighed shifting behind me. Next thing I knew, his arms were wrapped around my waist as he pulled my back against his body, burying his face in my hair. “You can go shower, or, if you want to stay in bed, I’ll gladly occupy you…” He trailed off, kissing my neck.  
I shivered in disgust, then shoved away from him. “Fine, I’ll go take a fucking shower.” I growled, climbing out of bed, forcing my body not to move as stiffly as it felt. When I got up, I only made it a few steps before my knees gave out. I caught myself before I hit the floor, then continued onward.  
“We didn’t _break_ you, did we?” Normally, I would have thought he was taunting and flipped him off, but something in his tone made me turn back to look at him, leaning on the doorframe of the en suite bathroom.  
I tried to read his look as he studied me, wondering why he was frowning like that. Had he overestimated my tolerance for abuse? Maybe he was reconsidering killing me? Maybe he was going to gas me when I got in the shower. That’d be nice. Pretty cowardly, but I’d certainly enjoy it. Hell, that’d be one shower I’d be _glad_ to take with him.  
“I’ve had worse.” I said honestly, shrugging. I ignored the pain that lanced through me, refusing to let it show. The only reason I was even stumbling around was because my legs weren’t working quite right – like, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t move my fingers last night. Thinking about that, I automatically tried to flex the affected digits, pain searing through my entire arm as they clenched into a loose fist. _Score._  
Gerard’s eyes dropped to my hand, then darted to my face, as if trying to catch something. He studied me intensely for a moment, then his face softened. “You gonna be okay in there?”  
“Peachy.” I sneered, then turned towards the bathroom. Let him hit me. Let him fucking kill me if he wanted. I didn’t care anymore .  
I started the water, checked that there was a clean towel – there were several – and stepped into the shower, letting the door close behind me. I stood there for a moment, letting the purposely scalding water scorch across my skin, relishing all the pain for a moment. Then my legs gave out, and I slid down the wall, slumping against the side of the shower. I vaguely wished it was a bath, so I could drown myself. I didn’t want this life, forced to be here, locked away with these men. I’d rather be dead. I’d rather be on the streets. I might even rather be home with my parents, locked up there.  
On second thought, if I had to be locked up, I’d rather it was here.  
The thoughts drifted through my head, interrupted a moment later when the bathroom door swung open.  
 _Stupid bastard picked the lock._ I thought, miffed. _Didn’t his precious mama teach him about giving a lady her privacy?_  
“Mare, you alive?” Why couldn’t he use my _whole_ name? What was wrong with ‘Mara’? It was just one more syllable. And what the Hell was with ‘sugar’? And Ray always calling me ‘angel’? _And I’m not focusing, which means I must have hit heads with Mikey pretty hard last night._ I thought, a wicked grin sprawling crazily across my face. _Betcha I hurt worse than a hangover._  
“Mara?” _Ah,_ there’s _my name._  
I still didn’t answer, just closed my eyes and stayed there, slumped under the too-hot water, hoping it would melt me, or help me evaporate, or just _something_ …  
The shower door opened, revealing Gerard standing there, still in his boxers. I blinked blankly up at him, my mind pretty much gone. Gerard seemed to be biting back a grin as he looked down at me.  
“You gave yourself a concussion when you hit Mikey, didn’t you?” He couldn’t stop the grin, especially when I nodded, closing my eyes to try to ward off the dizziness. “You got him pretty good, Frank says he can’t even get up.”  
I cracked open an eye and smiled slightly. “Don’t fuck with a pissed chick.” I said, and Gerard grinned, shaking his head.  
“I think Mikey learned his lesson.” Gerard said, then peeled off his boxers and stepped into the shower with me, cursing as the water hit him. He immediately turned the temperature to something a _lot_ more comfortable, but _I_ wasn’t going to say that.  
“Don’t make me smash _your_ head, too.” I groaned. “At least not until I can think in a straight line.” I _so_ didn’t want to deal with fighting him off at the moment.  
Gerard grabbed my arms just above my elbows and pulled me to my feet, giving me an amused look. “I’m sure that makes sense in your head, but, unlike you, I’m thinking straight.” His eyes scanned my bruises, giving me a quick once over before he sighed. “You’re a mess.”  
“A fucking fabulous train wreck.” I growled in agreement. “And don’t you fucking forget it.”  
“Sugar, you’re smashed, and not in a good way.” Gerard laughed, reaching around me for the shampoo before dumping a liberal amount onto my head.

Surprisingly, the shower was just that – a shower. I was still suspicious as he helped me out, wrapping a towel around me before putting one around his own waist. I crossed my arms to hold my own towel up, resting my head on Gerard’s shoulder as he rested a hand on mine to guide me back into his room.  
“You confuse me.” Gerard shook his head, having me go sit on the edge of the bed. I stared at the ceiling as he turned away, starting to get dressed.  
“Good.” I mumbled, and I heard him laugh, which made me grin. The grin faded as what was left of my mind drifted back to last night. “How’d you sleep last night?” I asked, forgetting Gerard was changing and looking at him. Thankfully, he was already in (skinny) jeans, rummaging through a drawer for a shirt. He gave me a confused look over his shoulder, which was still wet from his damp hair dripping onto it.  
“It didn’t seem to bug you that I’m going to kill you and you were sound asleep with a huge-ass knife sitting on the table.” I frowned, and Gerard automatically looked at the table. The knife had been gone when I woke up, hidden carefully away, but I knew it was in the room somewhere.  
“How’d you even know about that?” Gerard asked slowly, crossing his arms as he frowned, finally turning to face me.  
“I saw you give up cuddling with it last night.” I shrugged.  
“I thought you were asleep.” Gerard said, half surprised, half offering it as an answer.  
“Nope.” I grinned happily. “I made sure you fell asleep first.”  
Gerard blinked, caught off-guard, a disbelieving grin crossing his face. He opened his mouth, then shut it, shaking his head.  
I childishly stuck my tongue out at him, and he looked up just in time to catch me red-handed. I immediately gave him a cheeky, overly-innocent grin.  
“You really are Frank’s best friend.” Gerard shook his head again, and my own good mood instantly died.  
“No.” I said softly, looking at the ground.  
I heard soft footsteps and looked up to see Gerard crossing the room towards me. “You realize you’re not going to kill us, right?” He asked, and I stayed sitting tall as he advanced. It felt right, to stop cowering. “You can’t. There’s too many of us, we’re too good.”  
“Nice ego. I’ll have to stab that, too.” I retorted, rolling my eyes, unimpressed as he stood looming over where I sat on the bed. He leaned forward, getting right up in my face, but I just narrowed my eyes, not moving other than the slight swaying from being concussed and dizzy . “Hey, Mr. Manners, what happened to personal space?”  
Anger flashed in Gerard’s eyes, and he shoved me back to lie on the bed, climbing on top of me. He started kissing my neck and collarbone, but I didn’t fight, just tipped my head back to let him kiss my throat.  
“You seem to _like_ being a ‘little sex toy’.” Gerard growled, unhappy I wasn’t phased as he kissed and nipped at my throat.  
“Mm, kissing doesn’t bug me.” I sighed nonchalantly. “Try to rape me again, and I’ll castrate you.”  
“Please, you can’t even _shower_. And it’s not rape if you enjoy it.” Gerard growled against my neck, then crushed his lips onto mine, kissing me fiercely. I kissed back, knowing it was wrong and whore-ish but enjoying the attention. I guess having a screwed up childhood really _did_ lead to mental problems later in life.  
I wrapped my arms around Gerard’s neck, not bothering to try to respond, and he took the opportunity to pull my towel off. _Okay,_ now _he’s pushing it._ He started trying to take off his pants, and that was when I broke the kiss, shoving away from him even though pain screamed through my bad arm. Gerard immediately held on to me, trying to pull me back in, but I braced my good forearm across his collarbone, levering myself away.  
“Oh, _please_.” Gerard sneered, rolling his eyes. “Don’t be such a fucking tease; you know you want it just as bad.”  
“If I was a ‘ _fucking_ tease’, we wouldn’t be having this problem.” I snarled, moving my arm up so it was across his throat, choking him unless he moved back.  
Deciding my bad arm wasn’t a threat, Gerard reached up and grabbed my good wrist, pushing it back towards me and pinning it to my own chest. While he was distracted with that, I kicked away from him, sliding out from under him to sit up. I was cornered against the wall and the headboard, but I could fight better sitting up.  
Gerard didn’t lose his grip on my wrist, but twisted it, making me snarl at him in silent pain, my lips curled back from my teeth. “I’ll break it.” Gerard warned.  
“Big whoop.” I sneered.  
Gerard dragged me closer to him, his expression one of mixed irritation, hatred, and grudging admiration. “Then you can’t hit me at all, and you’ll have to wait even longer to kill us.”  
“I’ve waited ten years, I can wait another six weeks.” I narrowed my eyes, calling his bluff.  
“But think of what I could do to you in those six weeks when you can’t hit me.” Gerard leaned in to breathe in my ear before slowly kissing down my neck. “Isn’t just one morning better than six weeks?” He asked against my skin. He was driving me insane in more ways than one, and I let my head tip back against the wall in frustration.  
“I’m going to love killing you.” I muttered darkly, and Gerard laughed softly before kissing up my now-exposed throat. I tried to bite back the moan building up, but a soft ‘mmm’ escaped, making Gerard stop and smirk against that particular spot before kissing it slowly. He nipped at it, and I grimaced, hating both of us because I liked it.  
-  
After spending some ‘quality time’ with Gerard, we finally got dressed and Gerard took me down to the kitchen to find some food.  
“You can do almost anything you want.” Gerard explained as we trekked downstairs. “Except for killing us and trying to escape.” He grinned at me over his shoulder, then pushed open the kitchen door as I rolled my eyes.  
Frank looked up from where he was putting his coffee mug in the sink, caught sight of me, and looked away in shame as I glared. Ray and Mikey were nowhere in sight.  
“How’s Ray doing?” Gerard asked as if he read my mind, carelessly abandoning me to go off in search of food.  
“He’s breathing.” Frank said uncomfortably, and Gerard shot him a look that I couldn’t quite read. “He still hasn’t woken up.”  
I grinned viciously when I heard that, turning to meet Gerard’s eyes, my own gaze filled with sick victory, but the triumphant fire burned out, my grin fading when I saw the concern in his eyes. Sure, I’d savaged _my_ enemy, but it was _his_ best friend lying up there, possibly dying.  
 _It was a fair fight, it’s not like I snuck up on him and stabbed him in the back. I’ve ended fights worse off than him, fights that were just_ training _, not even to the death. He’s only in that condition ‘cause I’m better, fair-and-square._ I thought, trying to justify myself for the first time. _Then why do I feel so awful?_  
I looked at Frank, and saw that _pain_ all over his face again, the one that made me want to go promise him the world on a silver platter if it would just bring back his stupid smile.  
In two strides, I’d crossed the room to him, and he looked up to meet my gaze before my uppercut hit his chin, snapping his head up and sending him stumbling back into the counter. He didn’t try to recover, he didn’t try to fight back, he just fell against the counter and stared at me sadly.  
“Fight back so I can kill you.” I snarled, grabbing his shirt and yanking him down to my eye level, searching his eyes. They were blank, dead. Not Frankie’s.  
I shoved him away in disgust, stalking away from him to rummage through a drawer.  
“Princess,” Frank began, and I whipped around, flicking the knife I’d found at him.  
Frank opened a cabinet door, letting the knife hit that, then closed the cabinet to look at me.  
“Don’t you fucking _dare_ call me that.” I hissed as Gerard grabbed my wrists and wrapped our arms around me, pinning me against him, moving as if exhausted. I didn’t fight him, just glared at the man staring at me sadly.  
“C’mon, you obviously can’t be civil.” Gerard sighed, leading me towards the door. That was when I started struggling. I did _not_ want to be locked in that room. I’d go stir-crazy, like I had before I hit the streets. I _hated_ being restricted, held back, locked up, anything.  
Then I realized I’d have all day to snoop through his shit and find that huge-ass knife.  



	9. It Doesn't Matter if the Words Don't Mean a Thing

When Gerard returned later, after having done whatever gang lords do all day with Frank and checking up on his hurt friends, he found me glaring at him, his room completely ransacked.  
“Why?” Gerard sighed, looking around, somewhat irritated. Drawers had been ripped out of the dresser, clothes were everywhere, the mattress had been dragged off the bed frame, pictures were scatted on the floor, papers were everywhere, and I just sat in the middle of the mess, arms crossed, glaring at Gerard.  
“Mare, you know I can’t let you get away with this.” Gerard said, giving me a tired look.  
“So you’re finally going to grow a pair and kill me?” I chirped, sneering at him. “I doubt it.”  
Gerard shut and locked the door, then slowly crossed the room to where I sat, just as pissed with him as he was with me. _Where the Hell did that knife go?_ I wasn’t intimidated when Gerard stood over me, his expression blank as he stared down, and I just raised my eyebrows when he crouched down to my eye level.  
“You don’t scare me.” I informed him honestly. He could do whatever the Hell he wanted to me – in the end, one of us was going to die. If it wasn’t him, it would be me.  
Gerard sighed. “You’ll learn.” He shifted slightly, just enough that I knew what was coming, and I took the opportunity to launch the offensive, springing at him. I’d been working my bad arm all day, preparing myself, numbing myself.  
I pinned Gerard by his shoulders, holding him down as I raised my fist to pound his pretty little face in, but he kicked me off, grabbing me by the hair.  
 _Shit, I forgot about my fucking hair! I’ll have to cut it off since my hat’s gone…_ I lashed out at him as he hauled me to my feet, opening a cut above his eye. Gerard just started pounding me with his free hand, hitting me anywhere he could, decently hard. I knew he was going easy on me. I guess his mama had been serious about drilling those manners into his head.  
I growled, then kicked him in the face, proud of myself for being able to move my stiff and confused body like that. It made him let go of my hair as he stumbled back a step, and I shook it out of my face to see him better.  
I dove at him, making like I was going to hit him again, but instead swept his legs out from under him. I meant to follow him down, breaking his face with my elbow, but Gerard had other ideas. He hooked his ankle around my knees, jerking my legs out from under me so I fell onto my back next to him. He immediately sat up and leaned forward to pin me down. He straddled me again, pinning my wrists to the floor above my head with one hand – I had no leverage to get them free – and used his free hand to just start beating on me.  
I growled, grimacing as he just kept pounding on me, then let my eyes close as I tried to zen out and think the pain away. Gerard faltered for an instant, and that was all I needed to twist enough to break my hands free, slamming my elbow into his neck and knocking him aside, my eyes still closed.  
I opened my eyes as I jerked back, watching him fall onto his back beside me. I went to get up, but I was too dizzy – he’d battered my already concussed head too much for me to ignore the way the world was spinning. I fell back onto the floor, eyes closed and breathing heavily as I waited for Gerard to get up, but he didn’t. I forced my eyes open after a moment, rolling them so I wouldn’t have to turn my already-spinning head, and saw he was grimacing, one hand rubbing his throat where I’d hit him as he tried to catch his breath.  
“That was… cheap.” He wheezed, and I opened my eyes again to give him the most contempt-filled look I could muster.  
“What’s… your issue?” I panted. I didn’t have enough breath to swear at him, but my mind was writing a blue streak across my somewhat blurred vision.  
“You faked… bein’ dead.” Gerard opened his eyes to glare at me, and I glared right back, my eyes unfocused.  
“Nope. Just meditated.” I replied, still lacking the breath to be as rude and snappy as I’d have liked.  
Gerard scoffed. “You were _out_.” He was catching his breath, starting to come back to himself, but I was still down for the count because of the stupid concussion.  
“Made the pain stop.” I said, closing my eyes. If he was going to jump me again, I didn’t want to feel it. I wanted the pain to just _stop_ , at least enough to let me think.  
There was nothing but silence, and after a good minute I opened my eyes to find Gerard frowning at me. “ _Now_ what’s your issue?”  
Gerard glared at me, and something in my skewed mind clicked.  
“You feel bad for beating up a girl!” I crowed gleefully, cackling until I started coughing, a bit of blood coming up. He’d kicked me in the ribs at some point, and I guess that was coming back to bite me, too. “Don’t be such a fucking princess.” I grinned at him, forcing myself to sit up, then pulling him up beside me. The two of us slumped together, leaning on each other for support. “You hit me, I’ll hit you back.”  
Gerard had now almost completely recovered, and I stared him down, waiting for the hit I knew was coming. His fist was going to fit right into that nice, purple-yellow bruise he’d made yesterday.  
Gerard stared back, then wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me with him as he stood up. Between the two of us, we hobbled over to the fallen mattress, dropping onto it side-by-side.  
“You know, I don’t think I’ll ever understand you.” I remarked, my eyes closed.  
“Good.” Gerard replied, and I knew he was smirking.  
-  
The next day, I woke up in Gerard’s arms. In fact, we were all tangled together on the mattress (which was still on the floor). Out of everything, my head hurt the worst. I’d had worse concussions, but that didn’t mean I liked them.  
I groaned, burying my face in Gerard’s chest as I tried to hide from reality, and I felt him start to wake up beneath me.  
“Sugar, remind me not to take you on when you’re at the top of your game.” Gerard groaned, stretching.  
“Trust me, I will.” I mumbled back, holding on a bit tighter. “Don’t move, I’m comfy.”  
“I have to.” Gerard argued automatically, though he just readjusted his hold on me, pulling me closer. I smiled slightly, enjoying just relaxing with Gerard. Even though I was still going to kill him, I had to respect him – he was a good fighter; he was strong; he was more than just another gang leader, he was actually _friends_ with his cronies; and he was determined. It took guts to keep a homicidal fighter around, even as beaten-down as I was.  
“You’re the king of Jersey.” I retorted. “You don’t _have_ to do anything.”  
Gerard tipped his head so it rested against mine, smirking against my hair. “If I’m king, what’s that make you?”  
“A ninja fucking assassin.” I mumbled back, trying to go back to sleep.  
“Watch your mouth.” Gerard teased, and I opened my eyes to look up at him, our faces almost touching. _Damn, that boy has got some_ nice _eyes._  
“Make me.” I challenged, smirking.  
“Gladly.” Gerard breathed, then pressed his lips to mine. Here he was, being all gentle and sweet again, driving me crazy confusing the Hell out of me. Had we _not_ tried to kill each other last night?  
I soon lost my train of thought as the kiss deepened, and he pulled me on top of him, the two of us just holding each other and kissing. He didn’t press for more, he didn’t get rough, he just kissed me.  
When we finally broke apart, we just lay in each other’s arms, lost in thought.  
“You know,” I finally broke the silence, my voice thoughtful. “I think I hate you.”  
Gerard laughed under his breath. “The feeling’s mutual, sugar.”  



	10. Kill All Your Friends

As days passed, I got used to life with the Killjoys. They locked me in a room with nothing in it when they had to go out, otherwise they let me roam the house. They kept a careful eye on me, not letting me near anything I could use as a weapon.  
Other than that, it wasn’t so bad. Every now and then if they pissed me off I’d turn around and smash somebody’s face, and then Gerard would go punish me, which turned into a fight that left us both exhausted and at a draw. He was still screwing me, too. I couldn’t call it rape because I wasn’t really fighting it anymore – in fact, I couldn’t really complain about the sex – but I didn’t like _him_.  
When Ray finally left his room, coming to join us for breakfast in the kitchen, he froze when he saw me. I glanced up, then smiled at him innocently, waving.  
“Hey, Ray. How ya feelin’?” I asked innocently, my eyes wicked.  
Gerard, who was sitting next to me, smacked me upside the head, making me shoot him an annoyed look before returning the favor.  
“Are you really going to start this _now_?” Gerard sighed, giving me a look that screamed ‘I _really_ want to kill you’.  
“You hit me, I’ll hit you back.” I retorted, then innocently sipped my orange juice, purposely looking away from the little staredown Gerard was trying to start. That always managed to tick him off.  
Mikey was sitting on my other side, rolling his eyes. He’d been pretty pissed with me when he’d first gotten over his concussion, but he’d learned to live with me.  
Frank was across the table, and he wasn’t allowed to be alone in a room with me, for fear that I would shred him. I probably would, too, regardless of whether he fought back at this point.  
“Gee, why?” Ray asked, and I knew he was asking why the Hell I was still here, least of all eating breakfast with his friends after nearly killing him.  
“Because she’s a good fighter, we can use her, and she’s a good fuck.” Gerard shrugged, and Mikey snorted before snickering into his bacon as Frank shot Gerard a venomous look. I backhanded Gerard hard enough that he leaned to the side, blinking, and he turned to glare at me as I narrowed my eyes at him.  
“I will fucking castrate you with a goddamn _spoon_.” I threatened, and Gerard rolled his eyes, unimpressed.  
“Then who’re you gonna fuck, sugar?” He raised his eyebrows, smirking.  
“Your brother.” I answered, not missing a beat, and Mikey froze, staring wide-eyed between us, not sure if he should laugh or run.  
“That’s cold.” Ray said, finally moving away from the doorway as he grinned.  
“Princess Bitch.” Frank nodded, and the guys all gave him a look that asked why the Hell he was just digging his own grave even deeper.  
I, on the other hand, grinned at him. “Damn straight, Frankie.” The guys looked away from Frank to me, wondering if I’d lost it. Everyone in Jersey knew that _no one_ called him that.  
Frank just nodded, smiling at me crookedly. He’d be as safe as the other Killjoys – no more psychotic, unprovoked homicidal attacks – as long as he kept acting normal.  
“I think they just… made up?” Mikey said in confusion, looking back and forth between us. Everyone else was doing the same thing as we grinned at each other.  
“You can’t _ever_ stay pissed at me.” Frank _ie_ grinned, leaning back in his chair as I rolled my eyes.  
“I tried.” I shrugged, finishing off my orange juice.  
“I won’t _ever_ understand women.” Ray muttered, rolling his eyes as he sat down next to Frankie.  
“We do it on purpose, you know.” I grinned, picking up my glass and carrying it to the sink. “We _love_ to confuse boys.”  
“I _knew_ it.” Ray growled darkly.  
-  
“Is it true?” Gerard asked as we lay in bed together, tangled under the sheets, wearing a light sheen of sweat and not much else.  
“What?” I asked, lifting my head up to look at him. I was lying on top of him, and I started kissing his neck again as I waited for him to respond.  
Gerard moaned as I bit down on the spot I knew would get to him, almost forgetting to answer. “Girls go out of their way to confuse us?”  
I laughed slightly, then kissed Gerard slowly, purposely teasing him, making him groan in frustration when I pulled away, my lips just brushing his. “Sometimes.” I smirked, trailing my hands lightly over Gerard’s bare chest. “Sometimes, we just like to drive you crazy.”  
Gerard growled at me, frustrated, and suddenly I was underneath him again as he kissed me fiercely. I loved that I could control him like that, make him do exactly what I wanted while letting him think he was in charge.  
-  
“Hey Mare,” Mikey nodded, grinning at me as I fell onto the couch next to him, happy at least _someone_ in the house shared my love of MythBusters. “Still going to kill us all?”  
“I’m going to cut you to pieces in your sleep and feed you to the stray dogs.” I replied, not even looking at him as Adam explained the physics behind the latest explosion.  
“That’s not as creative as the time you were going to drown us in the lobster tank at the market and laugh as they ate our waterlogged corpses.” Mikey sighed. “Honestly, I think you’re losing your touch, dollface.”  
“Nah, I’m just too lazy to drag you all to the store. Gerard probably wouldn’t shut up the whole way, either.” I rolled my eyes, grinning at Mikey.  
“Fair point.” Mikey nodded fairly. “But still, chopping us up in our sleep? Really? That’s been _way_ overdone.”  
“Alright,” I agreed. “How about I have the stray dogs come in and eat you alive, then chop you up when they crap you out?” I suggested, completely straight-faced.  
“Much better.” Mikey said. “I feel acceptably threatened.”  
“What’s she saying this time?” Frankie asked eagerly, vaulting over the back of the couch to land in my lap. I immediately latched onto him, happy to have my best friend back.  
“We’re being fed alive to stray dogs, then chopped up when they crap us out.” Mikey informed Frankie, completely serious.  
“Ooh, that’s a good one.” Frankie laughed, and I immediately started screwing up his hair.  
“You’re not supposed to laugh when I threaten you, Frankie!” I growled as Ray walked into the room and changed the channel. “Hey! Put the science back on!” I protested as Mikey and Frankie both whined.  
“We don’t need you learning how to blow shit up, thanks. You’re scary enough when your threats consist of dogs.” Ray grinned as he flicked MTV on, which was playing that show about the spoiled kid Bam. He was in the process of turning his house into a skate park.  
“You don’t need ideas, either.” Frankie chucked a pillow at his friend, who was very much a skater.  
“I wouldn’t pull shit like that!” Ray laughed, trying to fight Frankie off. The short man had followed the pillow, tackling Ray in an attempt to reclaim the remote. Mikey and I just sat back on our couch and watched, two lazy couch potatoes amused by whatever we could watch from our seats – in this case, two wrestling idiots.  
“Gerard would kill me!” Ray was still protesting as he tried to fight Frankie off, losing because he was being tickled. “I’m not suicidal like _her_!”  
“He’s got a point.” I said to Mikey, who nodded in acknowledgement.  
“Yeah, but we were educating ourselves in an enjoyable manner.”  
“You win.” I agreed, then we hauled ourselves up to go help Frankie.  
Mikey wasted no time in diving onto the pile, but I just watched for a moment as the three boys laughed and yelled at each other before falling into the fray.  
“Where’d it go?” Frankie asked, releasing Ray’s wrist.  
“Still got it!” Ray replied triumphantly, trying to wriggle away. Mikey took the opportunity to sit on his back, but Ray twisted, shoving Mikey onto the floor. Ray kicked free of Frankie, who’d been clinging to his legs, then stood up and found himself face-to-face with me.  
“Hey, Ray.” I grinned, my arms crossed before I suddenly tackled him. “Hand it over!”  
“Shit! Get off me!” Ray shoved me hard enough that it actually hurt, and I let go, glaring at him.  
“What’s your issue?” I asked, getting up and glaring at him as he sat up on the floor.  
Ray glared right back. “You fucking _attacked_ me, that’s what.”  
Mikey shot me an uneasy look, and I realized he was questioning me. Even Frankie looked a little uncertain.  
I didn’t bother to defend myself, just gave them a disgusted look, hoping none of the hurt I was feeling showed through. If they wanted to see a homicidal girl who’d just been caught in the act, let them. I shook my head in disbelief, then just turned and walked out of the room, slamming my fist into the wall as I went. I left a sizeable hole next to the molding around the doorframe, but didn’t stop to admire my handiwork or listen to the boys gossip about me.  
 _Was I_ really _attacking Ray?_ I wondered. _I didn’t_ mean _to. I just wanted to goof off with the guys. They looked like they were having so much fun. They were laughing. I wanted to be part of that._ I was lost in my thoughts, just wandering, and wound up in an empty room in the mansion. It was the one the guys used to lock me in when they went out and left me here alone. There were holes in the wall from where I’d punched and kicked at it in boredom and frustration.  
I walked into the room, looking around, and traced one of the holes gently, feeling the jagged edge catching at my calloused finger.  
 _When did they stop locking me up when they went out?_ I wondered suddenly. It never really hit me that they’d stopped until now. _Are they going to start again? Now that I’m_ ‘homicidal’ _again?_  
A few small cuts on my hand were bleeding from when I’d punched through the wall downstairs, but I disregarded them. They didn’t bother me, I didn’t feel them. They wouldn’t kill me.  
 _What am I **doing**?_ I suddenly wondered, wheeling as the thought struck me. _I’m going to kill them. I_ have _to kill them. I’ve come so far. Why do I care if we get along? If we have fun? Why am I trying to be nice? I’m just going to kill them._  
I blinked, staring unseeingly at the battered wall.  
 _I’m going to kill them. Ray, Mikey, Frankie, Gerard._ I shut my eyes, trying to go through and plan it. It was hard for me to picture killing Ray, even worse when it was Mikey I imagined, bloody and broken. I almost got physically _sick_ , sinking to my knees when it was Frankie’s turn. I buried my face in my hands, trying to stop my imagination in its tracks, grimacing in almost real pain as it was suddenly Gerard lying dead in my imagination. I gasped softly, and realized I was choking back a sob.  
 _Why is this so hard?_  
“Mare?” I cringed, even though there was nothing but concern in his voice. “Are you okay?” Gerard crossed the room quickly, resting a hand on my shoulder as he knelt down beside me, but I flinched violently away.  
“Fuck off.” I growled, my face still buried in my hands. I _wanted_ him to hit me. I wanted to hate him. I needed the excuse.  
“Mara, sugar, what’s wrong?” Gerard asked, trying to pull me closer to him, but I pushed away from him, bolting to my feet. He looked up after me, confusion and concern in his eyes as he slowly stood up, too, holding my gaze.  
“Fuck off.” I repeated, glaring at him. I narrowed my eyes and clenched my fists, waiting for him to hit me. Waiting for him to give me a reason.  
Instead, Gerard just searched my face, trying to figure out what suddenly set me off. Then he turned and walked away. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he locked me in, even if he just closed the door as a sign I shouldn’t come out until I’d cooled off. But he didn’t. He left it open a crack, our silent sign for ‘you can leave when you’re ready.’  
I collapsed on the floor again, sobbing silently, harder than ever before.  
 _I was going to kill him._  



	11. Give Me a Reason (to Believe)

The whole ordeal blew over, and life went on like it never happened. None of the guys wanted to bring it up, because, according to Frankie at least, I was ‘scary as Hell when I was all emotional’. Apparently, being a girl has its advantages.  
There were some differences, though, in the six months I’d been with the boys. I laughed less. I didn’t really have conversations, just answered direct questions in as few words as possible when I couldn’t simply nod.  
Gerard and I … whatever we’d had, it started to fall apart. We used to just lie awake and talk to each other – about _everything_ – at night, but now I was silent. I didn’t let him touch me anymore. I didn’t know what was going _on_ anymore.  
 _I started out my life hating the Killjoys, training to kill them, training to live my life alone._ I thought, trying to sort out where I’d gone wrong.  
 _Then I had a best friend, my only family, who helped me further that goal._  
 _Here’s the kicker; I finally get taken by the Killjoys, and after years of looking forward to killing them, I find out my best friend was on_ their _side the entire time, and I failed at killing them because I’m an impatient, emotional imbecile._  
I got beaten and raped by Gerard, but we slowly stopped trying to kill each other every night. I stopped meaning it when I threatened the guys; it became a running joke to see how creative I could be. We started laughing about it. I _didn’t take it seriously anymore._  
And Gerard… what had started as blind hatred had become grudging admiration, then… maybe even friendship. I wasn’t sure anymore. What had started as rape definitely became ‘just sex’, and then… I blinked slowly as the realization hit me. _Then it was **lovemaking**._  
I blinked, and the ceiling of the dark room suddenly came into focus. Tears were running silently down my face, and I just let them. Why bother stopping them? I was going to kill the boys who’d become my family. The boys I _loved_ like a family. I closed my eyes even though the tears still ran out, shaking my head slightly.  
Suddenly, a gentle hand touched my face, wiping my tears away.  
“Mara, don’t cry.” Gerard pleaded said softly. I hadn’t realized he was still awake. “Mara, sugar, please.” He said, tentatively wrapping his arms around me. I just choked on a gasp, trying and failing to stop myself form crying harder.  
When I didn’t push him away, Gerard pulled me against him, cradling me as he stroked my hair, gently holding my face to his chest. “Mara, what’s _wrong_?”  
“What _happened_ to me?” I finally asked, looking up to meet Gerard’s gaze, my eyes pleading for him to somehow, impossibly have the answer.  
“What do you mean?” He asked, lost, but trying to understand.  
“How did it come to this?” I was still crying and pretending I wasn’t. “Why can’t I… What happened to everything I trained for?”  
Understanding dawned across Gerard’s face as he realized just what I was so upset about.  
“You don’t want to kill us, do you?” He asked slowly, almost incredulous as he brushed my hair away from my face. He let a small, disbelieving laugh escape as he started to grin at me crookedly. “It’s alright.” He said, pulling me close to bury his face in my hair. “Mara, sugar, it’ll be okay.” How could he promise that? How could he say that when my entire life was standing on its head? When everything I spent _ten years_ training for went up in smoke?  
“Sugar, you don’t have to be so upset.” Gerard said, resting his forehead against mine as he grinned at me, unable to hold it back. “Nobody said you _have_ to kill us.”  
I blinked. “But…” _But what?_ “What else am I supposed to do? I focused everything on it, put everything I had into it…” I trailed off, lost. What was I supposed to do with myself now? Now that I was a failure?  
“What were you going to do after you killed us, hmm?” Gerard asked. “Did you even think about that?”  
“Of course.” I answered immediately. “I knew everything would be over if I managed it.”  
“And what were you going to do with yourself?” Gerard repeated as he smiled at me, thinking he’d lead me to some sappy, ‘live my life in happiness’ answer he could tell me to go with now.  
“Kill myself.” I replied, and Gerard looked shocked.  
“ _Why_?” He gaped.  
“Because everything would be over.” I looked away. “I don’t… there’s no… I don’t have a _reason_ anymore.” Here was the answer. _Smart boy, Gerard. You helped me see the light._ “Maybe I’ll do that.” I mumbled thoughtfully, my eyes staring unseeingly at the ceiling as I considered the option.  
“No.” Gerard said immediately, gently turning my face so I had to look at him, blinking back to reality. “No, Mara, you can’t do that. _Please_ don’t do that to me.” He gently touched my face, his eyes pleading as they stared into mine. I wondered what he saw in them; if there was even anything left to see.  
“Gerard, up until now, I had a goal, a _purpose_. There was a reason for me to wake up every morning and face whatever the world could hit me with.” I shook my head. “It’s all gone now. There’s no point, no reason.” I stared at him bleakly, and he held my gaze, his hazel eyes burning intensely.  
“I’ll be your reason.” He whispered, gently cupping my face, brushing his fingertips across my skin.  
I stared wordlessly at Gerard, shocked. I had never been more confused in my life – everything I’d ever worked for was falling apart, I was considering the men I had trained so long and hard to kill my _family_ , and the man I should hate most of all…. He had me even more confused than the rest of the mess.  
Gerard just held my gaze, gently stroking my face, patiently staying with me, anchoring me to reality while my head was spinning out of control. When I finally blinked back into myself, _really_ meeting Gerard’s eyes, he could tell I was back from whatever mental trip I’d been on. His own eyes brightened slightly, studying me intensely.  
“I mean it.” Gerard said gently. “You’re mine. I’ll be yours.”  
I stared at Gerard for another moment, then a smile slowly broke across my face, the first one in a long time. Gerard smiled, too, and I pulled him in for a soft kiss. When we broke apart, we just held each other closer, burying our faces in each others’ necks, content to just hold one another.  
After a long silence, we started talking. Not about anything in particular, just… everything.  
I’d missed him.

I sighed contentedly before I opened my eyes, smiling. When I finally forced my lazy lids up, I found Gerard already awake, watching me sleep wake up.  
“Morning.” He smiled, kissing me slowly.  
“Morning.” I repeated, somewhat breathless when he finally pulled away. I’d missed moments like this since I’d been pushing him away.  
We wandered downstairs in search of breakfast. It was the first time in a long time I hadn’t gone down alone. It was the first time _ever_ Gerard and I had gone down holding hands.  
Mikey, of course, was the first to notice. “Looked, they fucked and made up.” He grinned wickedly, and both Ray and Frank obediently looked away from their cereal to gape.  
“For the record, we didn’t ‘fuck’.” Gerard sniffed haughtily, releasing my hand to wrap his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder. “I knew we were forgetting something, sugar.” He teased, making me roll my eyes.  
“How could we be such fools?” I asked, grinning sarcastically.  
“She’s back!” Frankie yelled, launching out of his chair, though he froze before hugging me. “Were you serious about the not fucking? ‘Cause I don’t wanna hug her if she’s still covered in sex sweat.”  
I smacked Frankie in the head as the other boys laughed. “Quite serious!”  
“Okay.” Frankie chirped, unphased by being smacked, then glommed onto me.  
“No makeup sex?” Ray faked a gasp as he and Mikey traded obnoxiously shocked looks.  
“Gee’s in deep.” Mikey nodded seriously, and Ray did the same.  
I was suddenly pulled away from Frankie, wrapped tightly in an equally familiar embrace. I smiled, twisting in Gerard’s arms to hug him back, burying my face in his neck.  
“And proud of it.” Gerard responded seriously to his brother’s taunt, making everyone else blink incredulously. There was a long, disbelieving silence before Frankie grinned at Ray.  
“Ha! I fucking _told_ you! Now _pay up_!” Frankie demanded triumphantly, holding out his hand. Ray just rolled his eyes dismissively, long used to our best friend’s overreactions.  
“They’re not married yet, dipshit.” He sighed, and Gerard and I both gaped at them.  
“You’re taking bets on whether or not we’ll get married?” Gerard asked evenly, though he was completely shocked.  
“How soon.” Frankie answered, ignoring the warning looks both Ray and Mikey were shooting him. Then again, maybe he was just that oblivious…. “ _I_ think it’ll be in the next three years. Ray says you’re together forever, just never gonna _really_ get hitched.”  
Gerard opened his mouth, shut it, then repeated the process before shaking his head.  
“And what does Mikey think?” I asked, raising my eyebrows at the man in question.  
“I think keeping my mouth shut is safest.” He raised his hands, mockingly defensive as he grinned up at me from his seat at the table.  
“He wouldn’t cash in with us.” Frankie pouted, and I laughed.  
“’S alright Frankie, I’ll talk to you about this later.” I grinned, and all the guys looked at me.  
“ _You’re_ going to bet on when we’re getting married?” Gerard asked, giving me a look that obviously questioned his own sanity for putting up with me.  
“Aren’t you?” I asked cheekily.  
“He can’t!” Frankie protested. “He’ll be the one proposing! He’ll know it’s coming and change his bet!”  
“You’re a paranoid little bugger, aren’t you?” Ray asked cynically, and Frankie glared at him.  
“‘Little bugger’,” Frankie muttered contemptuously under his breath. “I’ll fucking ‘bugger’ you….”  
Ray chose to ignore the suddenly homicidal midget man to look at me. “You and Gee can’t talk about what you’re betting on. And you can’t change your bet because you think it’s coming.”  
“Deal.” I nodded, grinning, and followed Ray out into the hall to lay my bet with the boys.  
“Okay, when do you think it’s coming?” Frankie grinned at me excitedly, and I grinned back before looking at Mikey, frowning.  
“You get outta here, you tell Gerard everything.” I ordered, and Mikey grinned, found out. He went back into the kitchen, yelling ahead to Gerard about being exposed, laughing as his brother cursed.  
Frankie giggled, shutting up abruptly as Ray and I yanked him in by the shoulders, forming a little huddle so there was no possible way for either Way to overhear or read our lips.  
“So? When are your wedding bells going to ring?” Ray smirked at me, and I snorted rolling my eyes.  
“It’s never gonna happen.” I replied confidently, and both men gave me incredulous looks. “I’m serious. Why bother getting hitched? It’s a bunch of pomp for nothing.”  
“So you don’t want to get married?” Ray raised his eyebrows skeptically. “Doesn’t every girl imagine a dream wedding, with a pretty dress and flowers that match their shoes or some shit?”  
“Why would you know that?” I asked, eyeing the tall man.  
“I have a sister.” Ray shrugged. “Anyway, you’re betting on no wedding?”  
“Yup.” I agreed, popping the ‘p’. “I don’t need to be married to be happy. Besides, who even said we’ll be together forever?” I shrugged. “Shit happens, people change. They come and go.”  
Ray nodded, and the three of us shook on it. Both men were businesslike until the deal was sealed, then they grinned and high fived.  
“Dude, easy money.” Ray nodded.  
“You’d think the chick would already have a date picked and their kids named.” Frankie agreed, and I knocked their heads together, quite a feat considering the height difference.  
“You’ll be sorry when nothing happens.” I shrugged.  
“I bet that you’d have a date set by the end of this year.” Frankie grinned. “Ray gives it three.”  
“But that’s not what you said before….” I trailed off, frowning slightly.  
“We know.” Ray grinned. “I just can’t believe you played right into our little scam.”  
“I could turn him down just to spite you morons, if he ever even proposes.” I reminded them, and they traded a look.  
“You wouldn’t.” Ray grinned down at me, ruffling my hair.  



	12. Chapter 12

“Hey, Mare, where’d you hide your mask?” Frankie asked me, and I looked up in confusion before understanding what he meant.  
“Oh, that.” I grinned. “I yanked one of the wood panels out of my closet wall and hollowed it out. Then I stuck one of those storage things in front of it. Why?”  
“You’ll see.” Frankie chirped, then disappeared.  
An hour later, Frankie burst into the living room where I was lazing about with Gerard and Mikey on the couch, Ray had been throwing pillows at us from an armchair a little ways away.  
Still grinning, my best friend tossed a jumble of things onto my lap, and I blinked in shock, as did the other guys. Apparently, Frankie hadn’t bothered running his little idea past anybody else.  
My mask, my lighter, and my three best knives had been dropped unceremoniously onto my lap, and I couldn’t stop the sadistic grin that tugged one corner of my mouth up.  
“Frankie, what were you thinking?” Mikey asked.  
“I’m more worried about what’s going through _her_ head.” Ray nodded at me, but I didn’t look at him as I picked up my mask and my favorite knife, staring at them. It felt like it had been a long time. It was only seven months, which, depending on the perspective, could be quite a while….  
“Frankie, I _so_ love you right now.” I grinned, nodding, then looked up at him. I dropped the knife back onto my lap to high five him, then caught the slightly jealous look Gerard was giving us. I hadn’t even said the ‘L’ word to him yet, and he hadn’t said it to me. “Gerard, lighten up, he’s like my brother.” I rolled my eyes. At least me having knives didn’t seem to bother him; the tension coming off Mikey and Ray (mostly Ray) was almost suffocating.  
“I know.” Frankie smirked, picking up one of my knives and tossing it in the air, catching it neatly before flipping it open and continuing to flip it. Without warning, he flipped it at me.  
Gerard, Mikey, and even Ray all yelled, but I ignored them, catching the knife neatly by the handle and flipping it around before tossing it back to Frankie. We’d played this game a lot on the streets, keeping each other on our toes. One slip up, and you had a new scar.  
I finally caught the knife, flicking it shut, because I knew Frankie wasn’t going to stop. He was way too proud to even give off the semblance of surrendering, so I had to cut short our little game.  
“So princess, wanna hit the streets?” Frankie smirked, and I grinned up at him ecstatically.  
“Fuck yeah!” I was off the couch before the guys even knew what was happening, arm linked securely through Frankie’s as we headed for the door.  
“Wait.” We stopped in our tracks and looked over our shoulders at Gerard, who was frowning slightly. “Frankie, is this a good idea?”  
Frankie and I exchanged an exasperated look before pulling our masks down. “Can we go _now_?” My partner in crime whined.  
Gerard shot me an apologetic look. “That’s not what I meant.”  
I smiled cynically behind my mask. “You think I’m gonna run.” I nodded slowly, sympathizing with him. That would be bad; I knew a _lot_ about the Killjoys and their weaknesses at this point.  
Frankie snorted. “Please.” He rolled his eyes behind his Frankenstein mask. “This is _Mara_. She’s not going anywhere.”  
Mikey relaxed, but Gerard and especially Ray still seemed on tenterhooks. Everything I did seemed to be affecting Ray in the worst ways, so I didn’t really blame him, but still, I wanted to get _out_.  
“I have been in this house for seven months. I haven’t had a real fight in ages, and I’m going out of my fucking mind.” I sighed. “Can’t I just go kill something?”  
“As long as it’s not us.” Ray grinned, trying to joke, and I nodded in appreciation of the gesture.  
“Frank, don’t wear your mask; everyone’s used to seeing Smile with you, not Fun Ghoul.” Gerard finally sighed, and I high fived Frankie as soon as his mask was off and discarded carelessly on the table next to the door.  
“Don’t forget your –” Gerard began, but he cut off abruptly when he saw the couch cushion I’d been sitting on was empty.  
He looked at me in confusion, and I innocently held up my knives.  
“When did…? How did…? But….” Gerard sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t even want to know, at this point.” Then he looked up at me, smiling slightly. “Have fun.”  
“No problem.” I nodded, then Frankie and I were out the door.  
“Sunlight.” I sighed, tipping my head back to savor the feeling as Frankie snickered at me. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. It’s been seven fucking months, and that house doesn’t even have goddamn windows.” I growled, and Frankie actually looked sort of guilty.  
“I know, I’m sorry, Smile.” He smiled apologetically, and I sighed, draping an arm around his shoulders as he did the same to me.  
“Don’t worry about it.” I grinned behind my mask, and I knew he could tell.  
-  
“Dude, I’ve always been better than you.” I snorted as I cleaned my knife, having just had my first decent fight in ages, since I’d pretty much stopped beating on the guys. I didn’t even train with them; I was always afraid Ray would get upset.  
“You can’t take me, you’re rusty.” Frankie smirked, and I gave him a skeptical look before putting my knife away and standing up to square off against him.  
“I’ll make you eat those words, Frankie.”  
“Bring it, princess.” He grinned back, and I happily launched myself at him, battling like we had ages ago, back when Frankie was trying to teach me how to build up power for a right hook. We didn’t hold back other than the fact that we wouldn’t kill each other. We tried to avoid broken bones, too, but just because they were inconvenient to help each other limp home with.  
Forty minutes later, Frankie and I were still going, having drawn a few interested spectators; news on the street traveled fast, and word was out that Suicidal Smile was back in town.  
Frankie was fighting really well, better than he ever had, but I was finally all healed up and at the top of my game, and I finally took him down. Knocking his legs out from under him, I pulled out my knife and had the blade pressed against his throat almost before he hit the ground. We stayed like that for a moment, breathing hard, then both of us seemed to realize what we were doing.  
Here I was, with a Killjoy disarmed and beaten, his throat right under my steel. I could kill a Killjoy, and go home and say it was just a random fight, we’d gotten jumped….  
Frankie’s eyes flickered towards the blade, widening slightly, then he searched my face. After a tense moment, he grinned crookedly, and I grinned back, somewhat relieved.  
 _No, I’m not going to kill my Frankie._  
I flipped the knife shut, using my free hand to grab Frankie’s and haul him upright, both of us grinning at each other. He pulled me into a guy hug – the kind where the guys ram shoulders and pat each other on the back – as our crowd of spectators dispersed.  
“You almost had me scared for a minute, there.” Frankie grinned at me as we wandered down the sidewalk.  
“’Almost’?” I teased skeptically. “You were about to wet yourself, Frankie.” I snorted, then caught sight of his face and took off before he could jump me, laughing. I heard his footsteps behind me, and darted away, glancing over my shoulder. I was too concerned with Frankie – who hadn’t yet rounded the corner – to notice the arm that extended across my path, clotheslining me. I hit the concrete on my back with a groan, feeling the air rush out of my lungs as I was dragged out of sight.  
Still lying on my back, now hidden behind a dumpster, my attacker loomed over me, a gun in his hand. I blinked him into focus as I groaned again, shaking my head.  
“What the hell, Ray?” I mumbled, letting my head drop back onto the cracked pavement. The Killjoy, however, didn’t lower his gun. “Ray?”  
“I saw you fighting Frankie.” Ray hissed from behind his helmet. He reached down, jerking me roughly to my feet, now pressing the muzzle of his gun to my temple. “Now you’re in trouble.”  
“For what?” I demanded as he started dragging me out of the alley. I started trying to shove away, wondering if this was some sick sort of joke, but his finger tightened on the trigger.  
“Give me a reason.” Ray said softly, looking ahead, dead serious.  
I gaped at him for a moment, then movement on my free side caught my eye. Before I could turn to look, though, there was a sharp pain in my head.  
Then everything went black.  



	13. If You Look in the Mirror and Don't Like What You See

I blinked awake, back in the house. I was handcuffed again, in my jeans and bra – whoever took my shirt was going to die this time, plain and simple – in the shower. I glared around the empty bathroom, wondering where everyone was, what was going on, and why they’d taped my mouth shut. If this was Gerard’s doing, I was going to castrate him.  
Several long, irritating minutes later, Mikey poked his head in the bathroom. “She’s awake.” He announced, probably to Gerard, who appeared a second later.  
I couldn’t read the expression on Gerard’s face, just that it was cold.  
“Mara,” _Shit, he never calls me that._ “I heard about Frankie. Ray’s out looking for him, but you…” He stepped further into the bathroom as Mikey disappeared. “You’re in trouble, sugar.”  
I rolled my eyes, wondering what I’d done that was so bad. I hadn’t even hurt Frankie during our little sparring match, even though I’d clearly been the winning party the entire time. If Ray really had seen the entire thing, he would know I let Frankie up.  
That was when it hit me.  
If. _If_ he saw it all. If he just saw us while we were fighting, then left to go tattle on me… he’d think I killed Frankie. They all would.  
Gerard was standing almost on top of me now, and I swallowed nervously, pressed back against the wall. He thought I’d killed Frankie, which meant he was going to kill me.  
He wasn’t going to be nice about it, either.  
Gerard slowly pulled a long knife out of a sheath on his belt, taking his time. His eyes stayed locked on mine the entire time, even as he slowly raised the blade, tracing the tip lightly down the side of my face, along my jaw, then down along my jugular. I could feel my pulse accelerating as my pupils dilated, and I tried to communicate with him through my eyes.  
 _Gerard, you know me better than that. I can’t kill Frankie! This is wrong, I didn’t do it. Gerard, don’t do this, please !_  
He didn’t seem to understand me as the blade traced across my bare shoulder, and he twisted it to finally break the skin. I flinched slightly at the sharp pain, wincing as Gerard dragged the blade up in one smooth, clean line, up the side of my arm to my wrist. He slit through my wrist, through the spider tattooed there, and ran the blade down the inside of my arm. Blood droplets raced the steel in slim rivulets, and my eyes widened. _That’s why I’m in the shower, so I don’t make a mess of everything as I bleed out all over the place. I’m going to die slowly, and I’m going to watch myself bleed, and he’s probably going to make the approximate hour I have feel like hell._  
Gerard slowly, carefully, I’d almost say _lovingly_ traced the same lines on my other arm, then made lines that mirrored each other, one on each of my sides, from my ribs to my hips. He made small, shallow cuts on the side of my neck – they wouldn’t kill me, it was just for the pain, at this point – his hazel eyes still locked on mine.  
A small puddle was collecting as red ran down me, pooling before it started leaking towards the drain. My eyes dropped from Gerard’s, already dulling as the bloodloss and the pain and the betrayal caught up with me. I dazedly followed the progress of a particular droplet of blood as it seeped down my arm, my side, into my jeans where I lost it, simply dropping my gaze to the puddle on the floor. The colors of it all – my black jeans, the starkly white shower, all of it contrasting with the vividly red blood – were starting to fade. My knees gave out slightly, but it was almost unnoticeable as my handcuffed wrists took on my full weight, holding me upright. It was hard to open my eyes again after I blinked.  
Gerard and his knife had stopped, but I didn’t look up at him again as he stood there, watching me die . I kept staring at the floor, willing myself not to let the tears escape.  
 _What’s going to happen when Ray brings Frankie home? I hope he doesn’t do anything stupid, I don’t want him hurt, too._ Drifted fuzzily through my mind, fading with the rest of the world. I was floating in the easy blackness, the sound of my pulse fading out, same as the sound of my own breathing, of Gerard’s uneven breathing. The world was dim, dark and painless, and I was floating, drifting away from the sudden shouts and crashes that came from somewhere far away, making Gerard jolt and turn away.  
“No!” I knew that voice, but I’d never heard him hysterical before.  
 _Welcome home, Frankie._  
-  
Someone was holding my hand, anxiously rubbing it between their own.  
I was so tired, my eyes were so heavy, but I wanted to be on my feet. I could feel the sting of cuts – too many to count – and my body immediately wanted to assess whatever threat had put them there, to fight or die fighting, not just lay here and fade.  
I forced my eyes open, blinking slowly as everything swam into focus. I was on a bed in a dimly lit room, and my cuts were already bandaged. Old news, apparently; nothing to fight anymore. I relaxed slightly, knowing that, and my eyes, now only half open, drifted lazily to the man holding my hand.  
“Jesus, I was worried, princess.” Frankie sighed, meeting my gaze. I was in his room, on his bed, and he was sitting in a chair next to me.  
“Frankie, ‘s me. You don’ gotta worry.” I mumbled, raising my hand to lazily wipe my eyes, trying desperately to wake up. I wasn’t alert, and that could get me killed. _Wait, I’m in the house, not on the streets. I’m safe here._  
I let my hand fall back onto the bed and tipped my head to look at Frankie, who was eyeing me in concern, though a careworn smile lifted the corners of his mouth.  
“Do you… d’you remember what happened?” Frankie finally asked, his smile faltering.  
I blinked at him sadly. “Gerard.”  
Frankie winced, obviously hoping I wouldn’t have remembered; he would have fed me some pretty little lie about us getting jumped while we were out, and I would have known it was off but gone along with it to keep myself happy. Now we were screwed.  
“They thought I killed you. Ray saw us fighting, and I guess he left before it was over….” I trailed off, wondering why I was still so lightheaded before I remembered losing so much blood. I vindictively hoped there was a stain in the shower, and I hoped like hell it would bother Gerard every time he saw it.  
“Yeah.” Frankie confirmed, nodding. “He followed us, he was worried, and he saw us going at it. He went back and told Mikey and Gee, just in case you took us both out, then went back to get you.”  
“He found me when I ran from you.” I filled in the gap in his story, knowing Ray had probably already done it for him, but I wanted him to continue.  
“Then they sent Ray back out, thinking he was looking for a body.” Frankie sighed, running a hand down his face. “I was looking for you, going through all the best hiding places, and it took forever for him to find me. When he finally did…” Frankie trailed off, his eyes sad. “We ran back as fast as we could, but we didn’t know if… We just hoped we weren’t too late.” Frankie swallowed, trying his hardest to smile, and I readjusted my grip on his hand to help him out. “We thought you were gone.”  
“You know me. I don’t give up that easy.” I mumbled again, still not entirely coherent as I forced myself to sit up, against Frankie’s protests. “Shush, I’m fine.”  
Ignoring Frankie, I stood up and walked to his mirror, knowing I had to see the damage. Gerard had gone at me when I lost consciousness, fading in and out before Frankie and Ray got home. I had to see what he’d done.  
I stared down the face in the mirror, proud of the way the girl staring back at me wore no expression. She wasn’t me, though; I didn’t have those scars. The thin, spidery ‘X’ over each eye, the slits along each cheekbone, the angled, parallel lines tracing her jugular on either side of her neck, none of that was mine. I looked down, seeing the thin lines leaking across my shoulders, dripping down my arms, bleeding across my wrists. The barcode and spider tattoos had thin lines going through them, right across the delicate veins.  
They were all scabbed over, done bleeding, a sick, dark, brownish-red.  
I looked back up at the girl in the mirror, meeting her eyes. _This is me. This is who I am._ I tried to force myself to accept it, but it wasn’t sinking in. The girl looking back at me looked pretty badass, I had to admit, but she wasn’t beautiful. There was nothing beautiful about her, and there never had been. She would never be beautiful, now.  
Frankie came up behind me, his eyes sad as he rested a hand on my shoulder and met my eyes in the mirror. I looked away from his gaze, staring at the picture the two of us made – best friends forever – and it hit me.  
 _She’s me, I’m her. This is all I am._


	14. There Ain't No Way That I'm Coming Back Again

Frankie tried to protest when I left the room, headed for the kitchen, but I didn’t listen, and he followed along, trying weakly to argue with me. I stayed silent, intent on finding food. I didn’t know what day or time it was, I didn’t know where anyone else was, how long I’d lay in Frankie’s bed. None of it mattered.  
I didn’t care about it.  
I just wanted some goddamn PopTarts to shut my complaining stomach up.  
I stepped into the kitchen, and Ray and Mikey immediately stopped talking, their smiles fading as they looked up at me, their eyes taking in the new scars. I was wearing a t shirt and jeans, not trying to hide anything, but I wasn’t displaying the scars like a freak. I was just… existing, going through the same motions I always had. Jeans and a t shirt.  
Both of them looked away from me, shamefaced, but I didn’t acknowledge them because they hadn’t said anything to me. I just drifted past them, Frankie trailing behind, and tore into some PopTarts, offering one to Frankie like I always did. He took it with a sigh, and I took my usual seat at the table.  
Ray flinched visibly, but I said nothing, just going on with my PopTart. Going through the motions.  
“Morning.” I mumbled, still waiting for my mind to catch up with me. Just part of the motions.  
Ray flinched again, but Mikey looked at me carefully before slowly repeating my greeting back to me.  
“How’re… you feeling?” Mikey finally asked, when it became clear no one else was going to break what appeared to be an uncomfortable silence. It was funny, I didn’t seem to feel the awkwardness yet. I wasn’t feeling much of anything, really.  
“I’m not.” I shrugged, and Ray gave me a sad look as Frankie sighed again, Mikey looking concerned.  
“I’m sorry.” Ray blurted out. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… I should have heard you out. I shouldn’t have just run to Gee like that. I’m sorry.”  
I slowly met Ray’s anxious eyes, my own blank. I knew that would scare him more, but I couldn’t help it, I couldn’t make myself feel. “I’m not mad. I get why you did it. I’d have done the same thing. Forget about it.”  
Ray and Mikey both gaped at me, then glanced at Frankie.  
“She’s serious.” He nodded, giving me a sad look as I stared at my PopTart. I was taking my time with it, not wolfing it like I usually did. That was wrong. I took a bigger bite than I had been, and started to feel more normal. Not really _feel_ , exactly, but… exist more normally.  
“She just… this happened once, when we got in a huge fight and almost wound up killing each other.” Frankie sighed. “She shuts down. She’ll be back in a couple days, maybe a week, tops. It’s just… how she deals.” He shrugged helplessly. “She’s honestly not upset, though. She won’t be, even when she’s normal again.”  
“I’m pissed somebody took my fucking shirt off while I was out.” I interjected, looking at Ray and Mikey for the culprit.  
“It was Gee.” Mikey informed me, and I nodded. I wasn’t mad at him for what he’d done – he thought I’d killed his best friend – but he’d been able to look me in the eyes and kill me, slowly, even after... whatever we had was. Did that mean I was just a casual fuck to him? Where was he, anyway? He wasn’t here, that wasn’t normal. It was throwing me off, even though the bit of me that was already coming back wasn’t so sure it wanted him here.  
“He’s tearing himself up.” Mikey seemed to answer my thoughts. “He hates himself for hurting you. He was upset about it even before Frankie came back. Now… he just…” Mikey sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked at Ray. “You’re sure he’s okay?”  
“Mikey thinks Gee’s going to try to kill himself.” Frankie whispered to me, and I blinked, more of me coming back on its own, part of me shocked back.  
“Why would he?” I whispered back, frowning. That was better, I wasn’t happy, but I was feeling.  
“He hates himself for hurting you.” Frankie answered quietly. “I think he loves you.”  
I shook my head, blinking slightly. “No.” I forgot to whisper, and Ray and Mikey looked at us. “He doesn’t. He _can’t_.”  
“Who can’t what?” Ray asked, and Mikey shut his mouth, scowling at the older man.  
“She thinks Gee doesn’t love her.” Frankie answered like I wasn’t in the room, and I felt a flare of irritation. _I’m almost back._ It felt good to wake up.  
Ray and Mikey gave me disbelieving looks.  
“Know what? I’m not even going to bother arguing. You’re _that_ wrong.” Mikey said, throwing his hands up to make his point.  
“What he said.” Ray agreed, nodding at Mikey.  
“Told ya so.” Frankie half-smirked at me, still concerned. I just rolled my eyes.  
“Whatever. I think you’re wrong.” I hesitated for an instant, then looked at Mikey, worried. “Is he really that upset?”  
Mikey bit his lip, then nodded reluctantly.  
“I guess… I’ll go tell him I’m not mad or anything. I’m fine, really.” I got up, abandoning my PopTart (not normal), and headed towards the stairs, well aware of the tense silence behind me. Right before the door swung shut behind me, I heard Frankie complain quietly to his friends.  
“Great, now we have to hear their fucking make up sex.”  
  
I stopped outside Gerard’s door, then knocked hesitantly. There was no answer, even after I tried a second time. I pushed the door open, and saw Gerard lying on the bed, his back to the door.  
“Go away, Mikey.” He mumbled, and I quietly shut the door.  
“I’m not Mikey.” I said quietly, and Gerard stiffened before sitting up and turning to look at me, hands gripping the sides of the bed as he stared at me in surprise, guilt all over his face.  
I held his gaze for a moment, then realized I couldn’t handle everything I saw in his eyes; guilt, pain, regret, sorrow, love? I looked away first, somehow, and leaned against the door, not sure what to do anymore. If he’d been as cold as he had… last time I saw him, I could have told him he had nothing to worry about.  
I looked back up, trying to meet his gaze as he crossed the room, but his eyes were tracing the cuts on my face. When he finally reached me, he raised a hand, as if to touch my face, but stopped himself, letting it drop to his side as he finally met my eyes, his own burning with too many emotions.  
“Mare,” He breathed, hesitantly raising his hand to reach out, tracing one of the ‘X’s over my eyes. Even hell-bent on homicide, Gerard, ever the artist, had made them thin and spidery, almost identically symmetrical. “Mare, I…” He didn’t finish his sentence, but shut his eyes as he rested his forehead against mine, one hand tangling in my hair as he wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close.  
I didn’t object, didn’t push him away, didn’t hug him back. I just closed my eyes and let him hold me, too confused to do anything else. Gerard’s lips ghosted over each of my eyelids, moving to touch on all of the cuts on my neck before he brushed them against my own.  
“Mare, I’m sorry.” He whispered, and I felt a tear drip onto my face.  
“Gerard, it’s okay.” I murmured, opening my eyes and reaching up to run my hands through his hair, but he caught one of my wrists, meeting my eyes as he traced the cut over the delicate blue veins with his thumb.  
“It’s not okay.” He said, shaking his head slightly. “Mare, I tried to _kill_ you.” Gerard whispered.  
“You thought I killed Frankie.” I argued softly, wishing he would stop. Now _I_ was worried about him; he wasn’t himself. “Gerard, I wouldn’t expect anything else, I don’t blame you.” I smiled slightly, trying to get my Gerard back. “If I thought you’d killed Frankie, I’d kill you, too.”  
The corner of Gerard’s mouth twitched upwards in a small smile of surrender, but I could still see all the self-disgust in his eyes. I didn’t hesitate, I just leaned up slightly to kiss him softly.  
Gerard faltered slightly before tentatively kissing back, readjusting his hold on me to pull me against him.  
When we finally pulled away, I buried my face in Gerard’s neck as he rested his head on mine. I knew he was still upset, but I knew he was accepting it. I felt as mush as heard him sigh, content, and smiled.  
“Gerard?” I asked tentatively.  
“Yeah, sugar?” Gerard murmured softly, running his hand through my hair while his other arm remained firmly around my waist.  
“I love you.” I said, then flinched, waiting for everything to go to hell.  
Instead, I felt Gerard’s lips press softly to my temple, lingering as he said, “I love you, too, sugar.”  
-  
Gerard and I spent a long time sitting in his room, just holding each other. This whole feeling was new to me, feeling so… shattered. Like everything in the world had broken, and I was killing myself by standing in the wreckage. Suddenly, I felt like I was suffocating, like I had to be anywhere but where I was. I needed to get away.  
I glanced at Gerard, who had fallen into a fitful sleep not long ago, then slipped out of his hold. When I emerged into the house, it was silent. I hadn’t realized how long Gerard and I had clung to each other, so long into the day. The others were already asleep.  
I didn’t bother to grab my mask or knives as I slipped out the door, I just left. I needed to get away for a while.  
I didn’t care where my feet were taking me, and I didn’t notice the wary glares of other fighters. My new scars made them wary, and they wondered how I’d survived. They wondered what the fighter who’d given me the scars looked like if I was the survivor.  
I wandered blindly through the slums, onto the train tracks, following them for a while before turning down the beaten track I’d taken so many times before. The one I’d followed after every night on the streets, to the one place that, though I’d hated, had offered me the only true safety I’d ever known.  
When I stood in front of my parents’ house, I just blinked as I stared up the porch steps to the ornately carved front door. _Why am I here?_  
After a long moment, I forced myself to move forward, though my steps were sluggish. I made it to the door, then pushed it open as the hinges groaned in protest. Quick footsteps sounded on the marble floor, and a familiar figure rounded the corner into the cavernous foyer. Somehow, the usual flare of hatred didn’t come.  
The woman froze as I stood silhouetted in the doorway, one hand pressed over her mouth as she gasped. “Mara?”  
I stepped forward, into the light from the chandelier, and the woman’s face changed as she took in the fresh scars. She thought they were her fault, for sending me off with the Killjoys. She automatically assumed they were horrible, just as everyone else did.  
“What… what are you doing here?” She asked, stumbling forward as I shut the door behind me.  
“I don’t know.” I answered honestly, staring around the familiar room. “How’s Dad?”  
She called for him, her voice echoing on the marble floors and wooden walls as she studied me. “Look at you.” She said, her voice shaking. “Look at what they did to you.”  
“It doesn’t matter.” I shrugged as a familiar man entered the foyer through a different door than my mother had used. He skidded to a stop as he stared at me, then rushed forward to hug me tightly. He’d always liked me more.  
“Oh, Mara, what did those boys do to you?” He whispered, rocking me gently. His hair had begun to grey in the time I’d been gone, his faced had become more lined, and I nearly matched his height – both of us were short.  
“It’s nothing.” I assured him quietly, hugging him for an instant before I pulled away.  
“Have they let you go?” He asked, searching my face, disappointment coloring his eyes when I shook my head.  
“No. I don’t think they know I’ve gone.” I answered. “I don’t think they’d care, honestly.”  
“Why not? You’re…” She trailed off before she could say ‘theirs,’ and I was glad she remembered that I was no one’s pet. I got what she meant, though.  
“No. They’re not too horrible to me, actually. It could be a lot worse.” I shrugged, and my mother immediately reached out to trace one of the scars over my eyes.  
“Oh, honey, but look what they’ve done. I shouldn’t…” She cut herself off again, but I couldn’t quite believe she was going to say she shouldn’t have sold me. I could imagine anything else, but she didn’t care. She never had, and she never would. Not like my Killjoys did.  
“I like them.” I argued softly, and my mother looked shattered as Dad’s eyes hardened.  
“No you don’t.” He informed me firmly. “Look at you, look at the scars. They took your ring, too. You can’t tell me they haven’t raped you, either.” He shot a venomous glare at my mother, who whimpered, already close to tears. “Mara, those boys are evil.”  
“No, they’re not.” I argued feebly, but Dad’s voice overrode my weak protests.  
“Have you ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome?” He asked, and I blinked in surprise, all my arguments dying before they could even become coherent thoughts. “That’s what I thought.” Dad said, studying my wide eyes and frozen expression, the way he could see my thoughts racing behind my eyes, reviewing every scene I counted as friendly.  
 _Mistaking kindness for love…_ I blinked slowly, and everything started falling into place. _Having Frankie there helped me fall for it. I wanted us to be friends again so badly, I could count anything nice as friendship from all of them. Hell, I could even think it was love._ I thought bitterly, my hands clenching into fists as I discovered that what I’d thought was the only honest thing in my life was really a lie. _They don’t like me. Not Ray, not Mikey, not Frankie, and especially not Gerard. There’s no such thing as love, remember? I’ve always known that. How could I be so stupid?_  
“D-Daddy,” I breathed, needing someone to hold me together before I fell apart. “I- I don’t want to go back this time.”  
Dad hugged me fiercely, already pulling me upstairs to my room. “You don’t have to.” He assured me, and I felt a tremulous smile spread across my face.  
 _And the best part is, they won’t ever look for you here._  



	15. We'll Carry On

I woke up the next night the way I always had, feeling 16 again. Same bed, same pajamas, same routine waiting for me. I showered after I dyed my hair, washing the scabs right off, revealing the pink of scar tissue already forming. I silently thanked Gerard for not cutting too deep in an effort to make me suffer.  
I pulled on a black turtle neck and black cargo pants to hide everything, tucking my newly-black hair into a beanie before stomping into a pair of black high tops and pulling on black leather, fingerless gloves. I finally got around to opening up a drawer I kept of tokens from fighters I’d beaten – the masks of the dead.  
I pulled out several before deciding on a black mask rimmed in silver with delicate electric blue lines twining intricate patterns over the face. I put it on and pulled a choker out of my untouched jewelry box; black leather studded with fake sapphires and rhinestones. It looked like a cat collar, but I didn’t mind at the moment. The point was to have a constant feeling of being collared, of tethering myself to my goal.  
I never should have lost sight of my goal, my fucking purpose in life;  
I wasn’t going to rest until the Killjoys were dead.  
-  
I hit the streets and immediately went to a fire escape, surveying the underworld. I realized I was staring Hades in the face and smiled grimly, recognizing my only true friend. A scuffle broke out in the alley below me, and I decided I wanted a piece of the action. One of the young men wore a Zorro mask, the other thought he was hot shit in a ski mask. The ski-masked man fell, bloody and broken, as Zorro turned on me, looking me up and down before swaggering forward, a lurid proposal on his lips.  
Before he could voice whatever he was thinking, the hilt of my knife sprouted from the side of his neck, making him freeze and blink in shock as his eyes bugged out. I slashed back, dragging my knife across the front of his throat, then watched him fall as he gurgled and choked on his last breath.  
I turned away, leaving the alley and striding proudly out into the orange glow of a flickering streetlamp. The underworld was alive tonight; small fires lit everywhere and shadows darting through the darkness. I grinned under my mask, glad to be back.  
Anyone who crossed my path tonight would die.  
There were few good fights that night, it was mostly murder for me. No one was a challenge anymore, not after spending so long training with the supposedly matchless Killjoys. _Guess that makes me their match._  
As dawn approached, I found the bonfire where the others had gathered. I stayed back towards the outer reaches of the flickering light, watching as a small scuffle broke out to the tune of the bawdy songs being sung. Scarred teenagers everywhere were cackling in the erratic light, pounding back beers and taking hits of whatever drugs came their way. They traded insults and swears like they were precious, and offered sharp blades to anyone whose tongue came off as too loose. _This_ was home.  
I moved into the light, joining the others. A few tried to fight me, testing an unfamiliar mask, but I was otherwise welcomed with insults and offers of drugged alcohol. I fell into place beside other masked people, joining in the celebration. We were all alive for the night, and we would all kill each other one day.  
I was easing back into life at the bonfire when an unfamiliar voice shouted out a familiar name.  
“Frank! Where’s your precious Smile? It’s been ages since we’ve seen the queen.” A woman in a violet mask cackled, only to have the hilt of a throwing knife sprout from her heart. Her companions let her fall to the ground as she shuddered her way out of this life.  
Frankie stalked into the circle, his face made harsh and jagged by the firelight. “I’m looking for someone. A girl, with X’s scarred on her eyes. She’s got scars all over.”  
“Please, that could be any whore out here.” A man waved his hand carelessly, and Frankie glared at him venomously.  
“You’ll know if you see her. We want her back.” He growled.  
“We?” Another man taunted, this one without a mask. “Giving in to the schizo, are we?”  
Frank scowled before replying over the mad laughter ringing through the night. “No. I’m working with the Killjoys on this one.”  
The alley was suddenly silent as everyone froze, glancing at each other.  
“No shit?” Breathed a masked man, everyone giving Frankie the same awed look.  
“Does this mean there’s a reward for finding her?” Piped up a sleazy voice, and his companion immediately cuffed him over the head.  
“The reward is that you won’t be killed on sight.” Frankie spat, then turned on his heel and strode off into the darkness. The alley was silent and eerily still for a long moment before the most drunken fighters began to laugh.  
-  
I sat down warily, eyeing the pair across the table from me uncertainly. I had never done this before, and they looked just as uncomfortable as me.  
“Pass… pass the celery.” My mother said weakly, not looking up from the delicate white tablecloth. I handed it over without a word, not even acknowledging her nod of thanks. Sitting down to eat as a family was something they hadn’t done with me once I found out what they were planning for me. I could only vaguely remember the dreams I’d had before I knew what was waiting for me. I could remember the burning desire to get out of Jersey, away from all of this, but not much else.  
I suffered through the awkward meal, then vanished up to my room, only one thing on my mind. I’d kept journals when I was younger, though the habit had fizzled and died as I lost all hope for the future. Now, though, I wanted to know. I wanted to know where I’d pictured myself, I wanted to remind myself what it was like to have hope.  
I ripped my mattress off my bed, clawing at the zipper I’d put on the underside of the box spring. I’d hidden the journals away as I got older, unable to face the hope I’d once had for myself and the world.  
When the books came tumbling out, in cheerful colors and pretty patterns, I froze and stared at them for a moment. I couldn’t remember appreciating something for being a certain color or having a pretty pattern, but I obviously used to count little, superficial things like that as important. I picked up a darker book and found it was one of my later ones, one that had already given up hope. _No, I have to go back farther._  
I dug through the pile to a flowered, pink notebook with messy handwriting proudly scribbling my entire name across the front. I hesitated before opening it, then poured over the messy scrawl inside.  
 _I wanted to get away from the violence. I wanted to be a doctor, a vet, something to help negate all the hurt. I wanted to get as far away from Jersey as I possibly could and send help to everyone trapped here. I wanted to stay clean, not let any of Jersey touch me. Not the drugs, not the alcohol, not the violence or the sex. And just look at me now._ I slammed the book shut and threw it as hard as I could against the wall, not bothering to watch as pages fluttered free and the covers tore off.  
 _The Killjoys aren’t untouchable. They’ll die one day. Even when they do, they’ll just be replaced. Even if I kill them, no good will come of it._ I thought, my breathing ragged and my pulse painfully fast, pounding in my ears. _I have to get out. I have to end Jersey for good. I don’t feel like I wrote any of that, but… I won’t let that die. I’m not the kid I used to be, but…she was right. She’s gone, but I’m not._  
I grabbed the destroyed book, stuffing the pages unceremoniously back into the book, though I was careful to keep them in order. As a little kid, I’d switched journals not even halfway through the book, and left a handful of pages blank. I grabbed a pen from the pile that had tumbled from the mattress, trying a few before I found a working one, and scribbled a message to myself on the first blank page I found.  
 _We’ll carry on_  



	16. Here's My Resignation, I'll Serve it in Drag

“Where is she?” Party Poison demanded, having burst into the house he’d sworn to protect.  
“Who?” Gasped the woman he detested. Who would sell their only child for happiness?  
“You fucking _know_ who.” He growled, stalking forward to grab her by her shirtfront. She was taller than her daughter, and her eyes were greener, her face lined but unscarred by the harsh world. The other Killjoys flanked him, staring expressionlessly as the woman’s husband entered the room.  
“Mara’s gone.” He said evenly. “She sold her,” he nodded to his wife, “And you took her. I doubt she would come back to us and leave us alive.”  
Gerard glared at the man from behind his mask, studying him. He grudgingly respected him for being unafraid, though he would never like him. “Then you won’t mind if we look around.”  
The man shrugged nonchalantly, and the Killjoys shoved past him, Party Poison thrusting the woman away from him as if her awful morals were catching. They stormed up the stairs and burst into Mara’s room, surprised by what they found.  
The place had been ransacked, various masks littering the floor in a stream leading to an overturned drawer, her mattress on the floor slit open to reveal a hiding place that spilled journals and pens, clothes lying everywhere as if an explosion had gone off in the closet. The shower curtain lay on the floor, poking out the bathroom door among a smattering of smashed makeup jars and containers.  
“She was here.” Mikey said incredulously, staring around at the damage. Pictures had been smashed, there were gouges in the wall, and the window had a spider web of cracks spreading across the reinforced safety glass.  
Ray was the first to stop gaping at the damage and step forward to pick up the lone journal that she seemed to have taken care of – it rested on the single upright dresser. He flipped through the pages, disregarding the scrawl of a young child, until he found a message scribbled hastily on a blank page.  
He stared hard at it for a moment, wondering just what Mara would be carrying on, then inspiration hit and he started skimming hastily through the book.  
 _Journal, I hate Jerzey. I need to get very very far away from here! Everyone outside is always mean and hurting eachother, and its not nise. Plus, I can’t go outside. I can’t play with any1 and I’m not allowed to have friendz. I’m gonna get out of here one day._ The page was shared with another entry, written in a different color ink; a pink that clashed awfully with the purple of the first entry.  
 _I’m gonna fix Jerzey when I leave. I’m gonna be a doctor or a vetanarian so I can save lives. I’m gonna tell on everyone in Jerzey and make the police and the army come and stop everyone. Even the Killjoys will stop killing everyone and be happy._  
Ray turned the page and found an entry that was scribbled so messily in red that it was almost impossible to decipher. There were blotches and smears on the page that didn’t help, and it took Ray a moment to realize they were tearstains.  
 _Fuck all of this. I’m going to learn to fight, and I’m going to kill them all. Nobody can fight if nobody’s left. Mama is giving me to the Killjoys, and Daddy can’t stop her. So I’ll learn to kill and stop all of this._ The entry had been crossed out in the same black pen used to scrawl the message in the book, as if Mara was trying to reach back in time and salvage some of her childhood innocence.  
He hurriedly skimmed some of the entries in the other books, freezing when he got to a specific one. He’d heard about the fight over Mara’s ring, but he’d eventually given up wondering why it was so important. And here was the answer, spelled out for all of them in orange pen on recycled paper. _I can’t let Gee see this, it won’t end well_ had time to flit through his head before Mikey roughly snatched the book, skimming the entry that had frozen Ray in his tracks. Mikey’s eyes glazed over as he read the page, blinking as he tried to absorb it.  
 _Jersey has gotten to me. I know how to fight and I’ve killed a dozen times over, but there are some things that won’t ever touch me. I won’t fall into the alcoholic pit that has mother screaming such awful things and hitting everything. I won’t touch the drugs that make the others happy only to send them crashing down into a deeper grave than before. And I won’t be a slut. I finally found a ring that I like, one that’s perfect. It has three butterflies on it, and they resemble the X’s associated with being straight edge. It seems only fitting I wear it as my purity ring. Now I have all my morals on a chain, a constant reminder of who I am. As long as I wear it, I won’t forget. I won’t give up as long as I have that._  
Mikey and Ray exchanged a worried look as Frankie handed over the journal Mara had left her message in. Gerard read through those entries as Frankie joined Mikey and Ray to see what was so special in the other journal. He barely had time to blink in shock before the journal vanished and Gerard was reading it, his face expressionless as the words sank in.  
Gerard shut his eyes, sighing softly, then closed the book and tossed it carelessly onto the mattress as if it held nothing important. “Come on, we need to check all the bus and train stations – she must have taken one of them to get out.”  
He strode out of the room, followed by his friends.  
-  
“You must have seen her. Now tell me _where the fuck she is_.” Gerard snarled, pinning a conductor to the subway wall. All the other stations had come up empty, and this was the final one.  
“The train to Maryland, she was on the long ride.” He whimpered. “She came through last night and said if we didn’t let her on she’d kill us all. She looked like it, too.” He cowered behind his upraised hands, and Gerard shoved him away in disgust, sending the sniveling man sprawling on the dirty ground. “Come on guys, we have a train to catch.”  
“We can’t all go.” Mikey said softly. “We’ll lose all our power.”  
Gerard stared at his brother for a moment, then nodded. “Ghoul, come on.”  
The pair stalked off, shedding their Killjoy gear in the confusion of the crowd. No one noticed the men as they blended in with the commuters.  
“Gee, what if we can’t find her?” Frankie asked softly, a few hours into he journey.  
“We will, Frank.”  
“But… will we really force her to come back?” He asked, and Gerard met his eyes, uncertainty swimming in their hazel depths.  
“Frank, I… I may not go back.” Gerard admitted, staring at his hands in his lap.  
“What about Mikey and Ray?” Frankie asked, staring at Gerard in shock. “What about me?”  
“I… I don’t know anymore.” Gerard sighed, running a hand down his face.  
“So you really love her, don’t you?” Frankie asked sadly, and Gerard nodded. “I guess… I don’t mind then.”  
Gerard looked up in confusion, not understanding, but Frankie was already looking away.  
“You can… can ask her to marry you. I guess I won’t have to worry about killing you if you break her heart.” Frank glanced at Gerard, shooting his friend a crooked smile.  
“I think I already did.” Gerard said, and Frankie’s smile faded.  
“Well, fix it.”  
Gerard looked at Frankie for a moment, then nodded, the haunted look being chased away by determination.  



	17. It's Not a Fashion Statement

“Oh, sweetheart, who did this to you?” Gasped a woman in a nun’s habit, who had been standing on a street corner collecting for her abbey. She gently grabbed my shoulder, concern in her eyes as she surveyed the scars. “You can come stay with us, we’ll help you stay away from him. We’ll get him locked up, and we’ll get you back on your feet.”  
I hesitated, wondering if I could trust her, then realized _duh, she’s a fucking nun_.  
“Thank you, sister.” I said, smiling shyly, and she immediately picked up her collection cup and lead me off down the street.  
“Love, where are you from? Did you get away from the awful people who did this to you?”  
“Yeah, I ran away. They were gang lords in Jersey.” I mumbled, staring at the sidewalk as the nun lead me along.  
“Oh, sweetheart, that must have been dreadful.” She sympathized. “How did they catch you?”  
“My mother gave me to them so they would protect her and my Dad.” I admitted, and the nun stopped in her tracks to hug me.  
“Oh, sweetheart, that must have been absolutely horrible. Don’t worry, God loves all His children, and you are no exception.” She continued to tow me to a bus, which took us out of the city and to the abbey, which wasn’t far.  
“I am Sister Coraline, and this the abbey Haven.” The nun explained. “Most of the others just call me Coral.” She smiled sweetly at me, and I attempted to return the expression, though it felt like my face was broken. Coral’s eyes softened as she lead me inside, and other nuns bustled about to get a room ready for me, sending me up to wash up and get ready for dinner.  
When Coral brought by dinner up, she was accompanied by a female police officer, who identified herself as Jamie.  
“They kidnapped you, you say? Did they rape you? Did they hurt you other than when they gave you those scars?” Jamie asked all sorts of questions, all of which I answered honestly, right up until the last.  
“What were their names?”  
I froze up, not wanting to sell them out. _They’ll be jailed for life if I answer. Maybe even executed if Jersey or Maryland have the death penalty. I… Frankie, Gerard, Mikey, even Ray… I’m just as bad as they are, and… I miss them. I can’t do that to them._  
“They never gave me their real names.” I mumbled shamefacedly. “I only know their street names, and there were always a million imposters. It won’t do you any good.”  
“Are you sure?” Jamie asked gently. “What about a description? Will that help me find them?”  
“No.” I answered. “Too many imposters.”  
“Would they come looking for you?” Jamie asked, scribbling something down on her notepad. “Try to take you back, maybe?”  
“I doubt it. Girls like me are a dime a dozen.” I sighed.  
“Would anyone come for you? Friends? Family?” Jamie pressed, and I wondered for a moment.  
“Maybe,” I murmured, lost in thought. “Maybe Frankie. He’d at least make sure I made it out okay. But I don’t think anyone will find me.”  
“Who is Frankie? Your boyfriend?” Jamie asked, and I smiled, shaking my head.  
“No. We’ve been best friends since we were seven, and we’re the only family we’ve got. We’re more like brother and sister. I doubt my boyfriend would come find me after everything that happened.” I sighed. Gerard wouldn’t come and find me. I had to accept that.  
“Who’s your boyfriend?” Jamie asked, smiling at me. “We have to know, in case he turns up looking for you. We don’t want to mistake him for the lowlife who did this to you.” She teased gently, and I smiled weakly in return. _Oh, if only you knew…_  
“Gerard. He and Frankie are friends, they’d probably be together if they were looking for me.” I shook my head. “They’d probably have Mikey and Ray with them, too.”  
“Sounds like the whole gang is after you.” Jamie said, making a note on her pad. “Who are Mikey and Ray?”  
“Mikey is Gerard’s brother, Ray is one of our friends. I lived with them for a while, until everything went to He- um, wrong.” I glanced at Coral, who winked at me and took my hand.  
“I see.” Jamie nodded. “Well, I guess we’ll keep an eye out for your friends. Let us know if you remember anything specific about the brute who did that to you.” Jamie pointed at my scars with her pen, then gave me a friendly wave and headed out the door.  
-  
I settled into life at the abbey, finding myself shy for the first time. I’d never known how to act around nice, normal people, and now I was surrounded by them. The nuns were all sweet women, and there were a few other abused girls who they’d taken in. We were all skittish creatures, though we offered each other tentative smiles.  
I eventually found my place working with the stray animals the nuns took in. They showed me how to nurse them back to health, and I started to care for them on my own. One puppy became particularly attached to me and followed me relentlessly about the abbey. He was a little shepherd mix, and he was only just growing out of his stage of puppy clumsiness and fluff.  
The nuns didn’t mind me having a pet, so I kept him around, though I didn’t name him. He trotted along with me no matter where I went, and clambered up onto my bed to hog my pillow at night, which I didn’t really mind.  
I was settling into the easy life here, a peaceful one of help and worship, one where no one minded my scars or that I’d never really had a religion. I was happy here.  



	18. I Choose Defeat

“Um, hi.” A man with fire engine-red hair said, looking uncomfortable in the police station. The officer behind the desk cocked an eyebrow at the man and his friend, who was short with dark hair, surveying them. They smelled like trouble to him.  
“We’re looking for a friend of ours, we think she came here.” The shorter man spoke up. “She ran away from home, and we’re worried for her.”  
“Who is she?” The officer sighed, bored being a desk cop. He wanted to be out in the field, tasing bad guys and arresting thugs, not dealing with lovesick idiots stalking their ex-girlfriends.  
“Mara.” The red-haired one answered immediately, and the officer rolled his eyes as he typed he name into his database.  
“Last name?” He drawled, even though there was only one Mara in the system.  
“She doesn’t have one.” The man replied, and the officer heaved another sigh.  
“Officer Commastock is on her case, I’ll see if I can get her.” He rolled his chair a bit so he could reach the phone, looking utterly bored as he waited for the other officer to answer. “Yeah, Jamie? I’ve got two boys looking for your little Mara. …No. …Yes. …Just two. …Okay.” He put the phone down and eyes the two men watching him. “She’ll be out in a moment. Go sit down.” He waved at the plastic chairs lining the wall, and the pair slunk off to obey.  
“Gee, d’you think it’s really her?” Frankie whispered, and Gerard shrugged. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. What felt like hours but was really only moments stretched by before a young woman in uniform entered the room, heading over to the two men waiting anxiously.  
“Hello boys, how can I help you?” She asked, decidedly unfriendly. No matter what Mara had said, she couldn’t be certain that the gang wouldn’t hunt the girl down.  
“We’re looking for Mara.” The shorter man said immediately, his dark eyes worried. Jamie made a note of that, knowing that emotions were harder to fake than expressions.  
“Why?” She asked simply.  
“I love her.” The red head answered simply, and Jamie glanced at him before raising an eyebrow at the shorter man.  
“She and I are the only family we’ve got.” He sighed, looking down.  
“What are your names?” Jamie asked, a bit less wary of the two. She already had an idea of who they were, but she needed to be sure.  
“I’m Frank, and he’s Gerard.” The short man answered, and Jamie nodded.  
“I’m Officer Jamie. It’s nice to meet you two.” She offered her hand. “Mara’s safe, she’s had some very wonderful people taking care of her. I recently heard she’s not as shy around the abbey as she used to be.”  
“Wait, Mara? Shy?” Frank asked, his eyes dancing in amusement. “At an _abbey_?” He laughed.  
“She’s not the religious type, I take it?” Jamie smiled, leading the two out to her personal car. She doubted they’d want to be locked in the back of a squad car.  
“Far from it.” Frank grinned as he and Gerard slid into the backseat. “Right Gerard?” the red head just nodded mutely, staring out the window.  
“Is he alright?” Jamie asked, glancing at the pair in the rearview mirror as she pulled away from the police station.  
“He and Mare had a fight, and he’s worried she won’t talk to him.” Frank answered softly, and Jamie nodded in understanding. “The two of them are in way over their heads with each other.”  
“Shut up, Frankie.” Gerard mumbled, but the short man just smiled and shook his head.  
“If it’ll make you feel better to sulk in silence.”  
The rest of the ride was just that, silent. By the time Jamie pulled up to the abbey, Gerard was pale and even Frank looked a bit worried. Jamie shot them an odd look, then lead them into the abbey.  
“Officer Jamie, how are you? Are your friends hungry? Can I get you anything?” A woman in a nun’s habit asked, smiling sweetly. She didn’t seem to mind Frank’s tattoos or Gerard’s obnoxiously red hair.  
“Thank you, Sister Alexa, but could you just find us Sister Coral and Mara, please?” Jamie asked, and the woman nodded before hurrying off.  
Only moments later, another nun appeared, both myself and my dog in tow. We were talking easily, and I was at ease there. Gerard just stared at me, putting a hand on Frank’s shoulder to hold him back when he stepped forward.  
I turned my attention to the two men standing before me for the first time, shock spreading across my face as I took them in.  
Frank ripped out of Gerard’s loose hold and tackled me in a giant hug, making me reel back as step as I blinked incredulously.  
“Gee? Frankie?” I asked, and Gerard met my eyes hopefully. I stared back for an instant, wide-eyed, then broke free of Frankie and took off, the dog hot on my heels.  
“Oh, dear.” Sister Coral said softly, staring after me. “And she was doing so well.” She sighed, exchanging a glance with Jamie before trotting off after her charge.  
“Alright, I thought so.” Officer Jamie nodded, reaching for her walkie talkie.  
-  
“Mara, sweetheart, I’m coming in.” Sister Coral opened the door (which had no lock), and stepped carefully into the room. I was sitting on the bed, my face buried in the dog’s coat. The dog itself was whining, trying to lick my face as my shoulders shook.  
“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t have to worry.” The nun crossed the room to sit beside the two of us, gently stroking my back. “Officer Jamie thought they were the boys from the gang, and she’s going to lock them up tight forever and ever. That nasty red head may even meet his Judgment Day sometime very soon.”  
I looked up at the nun, horrified. “What?”  
“Weren’t those men in the gang that took you? Didn’t they hurt you like this?” Sister Coral asked, gently touching the scar that slashed across the spider tattoo on my wrist.  
“I… They…” I stammered, unwilling to sell them out but unable to lie to the nun that had taken such good care of me. “Don’t let them get hurt.”  
Sister Coral sighed, shaking her head. “Sweetheart, have you ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome?”  
That did it. I glared at the nun, grabbing the dog as I stood up. “I know what it is. I decided Frankie was my brother long before I even knew he was in a gang, and my feelings for him haven’t changed. As for Gerard, maybe it started that way, but he loves me, too. I’m not going to give that up.”  
I ran out of the room, answering Sister Coral’s cries only with a melodramatic, “I’m going far away from everyone!” I bolted out of the abbey, still clutching the dog, and darted down the lane. I had no idea where I was going, but I knew that I was only going to hide there until darkness fell. Then I was going to do what had to be done.  
-  
“We’re so screwed.” Frankie snarled among a string of curses, sitting next to Gerard in a jail cell. “If we call Jet or Kobra, they’ll trace the number.”  
“She hates me.” Gerard mumbled, staring at the wall before dropping his face into his hands.  
“She sold us the fuck out.” Frank growled, pacing the cell like a caged tiger. “We should have fucking seen that coming. She wants us dead, and now the fucking cops are gonna take care of that for her.”  
“She hates us.” Gerard shook his head, then he fell back on the cot to stare blankly at the ceiling.  
When the cops brought dinner around, some shitty food and few insults, Gerard didn’t move, even though the light from the setting sun was in his eyes. He’d watched the sun set with Mara once or twice, he remembered. He remembered having broken every bone in his body, too, at one time or another. This was the first time, however, that his heart had taken a hit. This was the first time that the pain was so debilitating.  
Gerard stayed where he was, staring blankly at the ceiling well into the night. Frank was still pacing, occasionally cursing under his breath. He could think of no way out.  
Footsteps sounded down the hall, and Frankie readied himself to spit on the night watchman again, but froze as the footsteps got closer.  
An unfamiliar clicking sound accompanied the nearly silent footfalls, and there was no flashlight beam dancing across the hall floor.  
Frank narrowed his eyes and waited by the door, not sure what was coming.  
A shadow finally stopped by his door, reaching up to pull something from its hair and insert it into the lock. There were soft clicks, then a louder one, and the door swung silently open on well-oiled hinges.  
I stood there, looking at the two men, my dog at my side.  
“Come on.” I said, not looking at them. Gerard bolted upright on the bed, totally shocked, but Frankie just shook his head, smiling slightly.  
“Should’a seen it coming.” He mumbled, but I just turned my back and walked off down the hallway, the men hot on my heels as my dog lead the way. We made it safely to the parking lot, then darted into the woods. We could stay within the trees long enough to get us close enough to the city to be safe.  
“We can take the train once we make the city.” I murmured, moving forward, but a strong hand closed on my wrist, pulling me back.  
Gerard kissed me fiercely, running a hand through my now-short, still-black hair as he wrapped his other arm firmly around my waist. I hesitated before kissing him back, unsure of myself. When he finally pulled away, I finally met his eyes and realized I suddenly felt like I was home.  
 _Of all the times for me to go all sappy and emotional, it has to happen when we’re trying to escape back to the Hellhole I fought to get out of._ I thought, then smiled crookedly at Gerard.  
Gerard grinned back at me, then I slipped from his hold, grabbing his hand as I lead him and Frankie back to the train station.  
-  
“You’re coming back?” Frankie asked, and I looked at him, surprised. We’d just passed the last stop before Jersey, and I was still sitting between the two of them, my dog in my lap.  
“Yeah, why?” I asked, not sure why he was so surprised.  
“We went to your house.” Frankie admitted, and I immediately understood what he was saying. _We read your journals…._  
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Well, yeah. I guess… I guess I missed you guys.” Gerard pulled me even closer to him, and I smiled. He’d been quieter than usual, and more prone to hugging and kissing. He wasn’t the best at coming out and saying how he felt, but he made it clear in his own little ways.  
When we finally got off the train, we ducked through Jersey as sunrise began to stain the sky, a few brave birds chirping on the very outskirts of the city. We made it back to the house without incident, and I actually felt relieved to be home.  
We walked in the door and were greeted with guns pointed at us until Mikey and Ray realized who we were. Then they hugged me and yelled at the guys for not calling.  
I was glad to see them again, and the dog seemed to like them, but I knew it wouldn’t last. I had run away, and I was going to get in trouble for it. It was only a matter of time before Gerard dragged me upstairs and tried to beat the shit out of me.  
When Gerard finally took my hand to pull me upstairs, Frankie volunteered to look after my dog for the night, the two having become fast friends. I grinned at him and the others, then let Gerard tow me upstairs.  
Once Gerard shut and locked his bedroom door, I prepared myself for the fight to come. Just because I’d come crawling back didn’t mean I was going to let him do whatever he wanted.  
I was taken by surprise, however, when Gerard just pulled me into a tight hug. I hesitated, then tentatively hugged him back, wondering if he was going to try some underhanded trick.  
“Mare, I don’t think I’ve ever been that worried in my life.” Gerard murmured in my ear, and I waited for whatever he was going to try. But he just held me, setting me even farther on edge. Finally he pulled away to survey my face, trying to find what was wrong with me before understanding dawned across his face. “You think I’m going to hurt you.”  
I looked away, unwilling to admit that, but Gerard didn’t force me to look at him or hit me for not answering. He just pushed some of my hair back behind my ear, sighing.  
“I love you, Mare. I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”  
I glanced up at him and met his eyes, searching for some sort of lie or trick but coming up empty. “Love you, too, Gee.”  
We held each other all day, catching up on what had happened. I told Gerard everything, and he did the same.  



	19. There’s One Thing They’ll Never Take From You

“Oh, it’s good to be home.” I sighed as I sat down for breakfast, Mikey snickering as we listened to Ray and Frankie yelling over what to watch on television.  
“Tire Gee out last night?” Mikey teased, and I rolled my eyes.  
“Do you really want every juicy detail of your brother’s love life?” I cocked an eyebrow, and Mikey scowled.  
“Never mind.”  
I grinned innocently at him as the dog bounded into the room and I bit into my PopTarts, tossing a piece to my pet.  
“What’s his name?” Mikey asked, nodding at my little guy, who was trying his best to look cute for more food.  
“Um, I actually couldn’t think of one.” I admitted, and Mikey rolled his eyes at me.  
“Well, think one up before Frank does.”  
“Good point.” I admitted, and we both turned to study the dog, who panted back at us with that puppy grin all over his face.  
“What’s so fascinating about the dog?” Gerard asked when we ignored his arrival to the kitchen, still staring at my pet.  
“We’re concentrating.” I answered as Gerard sat down beside me, kissing my cheek.  
“He needs a name.” Mikey explained, and Gerard nodded in understanding.  
“I vote Charlie.” Gerard suggested out of nowhere, and we all turned to stare at him.  
“What the Hell kind of name’s that?” Mikey laughed. “He should be Killer, or Ripper or something.”  
“Mikey, you’re brilliant!” I yelled. “His name’s Jack.” I grinned as the dog looked at me as if approving his new name.  
“I don’t follow.” Mikey raised his eyebrows at me skeptically.  
“Jack the Ripper, duh.”  
“Oh.” Mikey said, grinning.  
“That’s pretty good.” Gerard nodded. “But I still like Charlie.”  
“His name’s Jack.” I said, overriding him.  
“How are you two gonna name your kids?” Mikey mumbled under his breath so only I heard him. I smacked him in the head for it, earning an amused look from Gerard.  
“Do I want to know what he said?”  
“All I asked was, how - ” I clapped my hand over Mikey’s mouth, effectively shutting him up.  
“Don’t ask, you don’t want to know.” I said, and Gerard laughed at my expression.  
“I’ll take your word for it.” He agreed, then got up with a sigh to go investigate the crash that came from the living room, followed by Frankie’s laughter and Ray cursing.  
“Did I say something wrong?” Mikey asked innocently, and I glared at him.  
“You’re an asshole, you know that?”  
“Whoa, what’d I do?” Mikey asked, not sure where he’d gone wrong.  
“Nothing.” I growled, dropping the rest of my PopTart to Jack.  
“Why do you get freaked out when we talk about you and Gee getting married and shit? You know it’s gonna happen-”  
“It might not. I doubt it will.” I said shortly, getting up from the table. “And I don’t freak out.” I headed off for the training room in the basement, needing to hurt something, even a punching bag or myself .  
-  
That night, when Gerard and I went up to bed, he was acting strangely.  
“What’s wrong?” I asked as we lay down together, but he just shook his head. “Gee, please tell me.”  
Gerard glanced at me, then looked away. “I overheard you and Mikey this morning.”  
“Oh.” I said, still not sure why it would have such an impact on Gerard. He’d been acting slightly off all day, but it hadn’t become obvious until we were alone together.  
“Why… do you really think we won’t last?” Gerard asked me finally, and I found myself put on the spot.  
“I… I don’t know, Gerard.” I admitted, looking away. “I mean, I love you. I know I do. I just… I just don’t know if we’ll be like this forever. People change.”  
“Do you want us to last?” Gerard asked, and I nodded. “Then why wouldn’t we?”  
“There’s a lot of things people want, Gerard.” I sighed. “I just… I’d rather not get my hopes up.”  
“I want us to last.” Gerard said, kissing the top of my head, and I turned to bury my face in his chest. “What if I promise we will?”  
“Gerard, don’t go there.” I pleaded. “We’re too young to even think about that.”  
“We live in Jersey. How long do we have?” He half-teased, and I looked up to meet his gaze.  
“Why are you so stuck on the future?” I asked, and he sighed.  
“I don’t want to get hurt, either.” He admitted, and I stared at him in shock. “I feel like, if I knew you were in it for the long run, I wouldn’t have to worry so much.”  
“Gee, I’m here, and that’s not going to change any time soon.” I reassured him, but his smile was strained and forced. I reached up and kissed him thoroughly, making him understand that I meant it. “Love you.”  
He grinned at me for real, glad that I’d said it first for once. “Love you, too, Mare.”  
-  
“Look, Poison’s got a pet!” A dirty fighter crowed as Gerard and I walked the streets hand-in-hand. I rounded on the man, snarling, but Gerard held me back, shaking his head.  
“He’s not worth it.”  
“Who is?” I grinned, and Gerard rolled his eyes in amusement before letting me go. The fighter didn’t last long against me, and his friend took off before I could touch him.  
“Why does that bother you?” Gerard asked as we continued off down the sidewalk. “Hearing people say you’re mine?”  
I frowned, thinking about how to answer that. “I just… I hate being told I _belong_ to someone. It bugs me when people think I can’t do something without permission or on my own. I belong to _me_.”  
Gerard nodded, staring off down the street.  
“I just kind of decided to get attached to you.” I said, grinning at Gerard when he smiled at me.  
Frank chose that moment to bound out of nowhere, mask on, with Mikey, Ray, and my dog Jack on his heels. He jumped onto my back, making me laugh before I dumped him on the ground.  
“I’m stealing my bestie! You’ve been hogging her!” Frankie yelled, launching to his feet and grabbing my hand, taking off with me down the street, Jack tearing after us, barking happily.  
“So what was that all about?” I grinned when we finally slowed to a walk, panting from the exercise.  
“What, I can’t miss my sister?” Frankie batted his eyes far too innocently, making me laugh. “He’s always hogging you!” He whined.  
“He’s supposed to. He’s my boyfriend, remember?” I knocked on Frankie’s head and he swatted my hand away.  
“And when’s he gonna be your fiancé?” Frankie demanded, laughter in his eyes even though he was serious.  
My face fell as I sighed, preparing the speech I’d given a million different times to all the boys. “Never, Frankie. It’s not gonna happen.”  
“So? You always told me you’d never fall in love.” Frankie grinned at me, and I sighed, wishing it was as simple as that.  
“Frankie, we’re too young. It’s too soon. It’s barely been a year since we met, and we started out hating each other.” I sighed. “And… I’m not into weddings. Or… or anything.”  
Frankie’s eyes widened as I fell into my own trap. “You’re terrified of having kids, aren’t you?” He cackled. “Just think, Suicidal Smile, terror of the Jersey underworld, scared by diapers and naptime!”  
“I’m not scared of kids, I’m scared of whether Gerard will _want_ them.” I admitted, knowing Frankie wouldn’t tell anyone.  
“Of course he will. He’s a closet family man.” Frankie snickered, and my face fell. Frankie stopped walking to look at me, confused, as I met his gaze, my face pale. “Don’t you want kids?” He asked.  
“Frankie… I… I can’t have kids.” I shook my head, taking a step back.  
“What?” Frankie asked, his eyes widening.  
“What did you _think_ would happen? You’ve seen what it’s like out here.” I motioned at the dirty, callous city around us. “Frankie, I got hurt a few too many times.”  
Frankie stared at me, his mind piecing everything together. “You want to get married. You’d say yes if you thought Gerard wouldn’t mind not having kids.”  
I nodded jerkily, unable to actually say anything as I pressed my hands over my mouth. _I’m not going to cry. Not over him. No one in Jersey is worth a tear. Not even me._  
“Hey, Mare,” Frankie reached out to me, reassurance in his eyes, but I just shook my head, screwing my eyes shut.  
“Frankie, nothing you can say will change anything.” I said, forcing my voice not to shake.  
“Mare, he’ll understand-”  
“What if he doesn’t?” I interrupted him, forcing Frankie to see more than just the ‘happily-ever-after’ ending he liked to slap on everything. “What if that means he doesn’t want me? Maybe he wants a family more than one stupid, beaten-down fighter.”  
“He got over the fact that you spent ten years training to kill him.” Frankie pointed out, and I rolled my eyes, shoving him.  
“That’s different. Minds can always be changed. Something like this isn’t going anywhere.” I glared at Frankie, then sighed, all the fight leaking out of me. “Can we just… forget about this? Please?” I glanced up at him, my eyes pleading, and Frankie nodded, pain flashing in his own eyes as he looked away. “Frankie, what’d I say?” I asked, making him look at me.  
“Just… the last time you looked at me like that…” He swallowed hard, forcing himself to be honest with me since I was honest with him. “You were trying to stop me from raping you.” He finished quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper.  
I hugged Frankie tight, letting him know that I had already forgiven him for that. “You didn’t mean it.” I reminded him. “And you didn’t do it.”  



	20. I Never Thought It'd Be This Way

“Where were you?” Mikey grinned, poking his head into the foyer from the kitchen as I slid through the front door, clutching a plastic bag.  
“Out.” I answered, and Mikey walked into the foyer, curious enough to want a real answer from me. He shot me an overly innocent grin, then made a dive for the bag I held, which I jerked out of reach. He made another grab, but I kept moving it, laughing as he got more and more desperate. He finally tackled me, knocking us both over as he grabbed the bag, ripping it open to peer inside as I laughed at the shock, then disappointment on his face.  
“It’s empty?” He wrinkled his nose in confusion as he handed me back the bag.  
“These were in it.” I grinned, pulling some CDs out of my cargo pants pocket and waving them in front of his face. Mikey promptly snatched them, delighted by what he saw.  
“I’m stealing Joy Division, Ray will take the Metallica, you’re going to have to fight us _all_ off for the Queen and Bowie, ooh, The Cure!” Mikey narrated, and I snatched them back with a laugh.  
“You can all steal once I’m through with them.” I stuck my tongue out, standing up and pulling Mikey with me.  
“Well, it’s four against one; we can take you.” Mikey grinned, and I returned the expression.  
“You can try.” I teased, and Mikey scowled.  
“Damn, I keep forgetting you’re not some stupid princess.” He muttered, and I laughed. I’d come a long way from pretending to be some scared little rabbit so I could pick them off, one by one, and then the psycho bitch who just tried to kill them all. He eyed me as I laughed, and I found myself asking just what was so interesting.  
“You seem… different.” Mikey tilted his head to one side. “Happier.” He narrowed his eyes as he studied me, and I shifted slightly, raising my eyebrows. “Are you pregnant?”  
My jaw literally dropped when he asked me that, and I was sure I went as red as I’d ever been. “ _Hell_ no!” I yelped, even more flustered when Mikey started snickering. “What the Hell even gave you that idea?” I demanded, blinking as I tried to get over the shock of The Taboo Question.  
“What? I know you fuck my brother. It’s only a matter of time.” Mikey replied innocently, and I smacked him upside the head.  
“No CDs for you!” I yelled, and Ray came down the stairs, looking curious.  
“CDs?” He asked, and I rolled my eyes in exasperation as he opened his mouth to ask why Mikey was laughing so hard.  
“Ray, look! Metallica!” I held up the CD, and Ray immediately forgot whatever he was going to ask. “Their new one!” I sang. “I think Mikey wants it, you better take it and hide to listen to it right away, before he gets it!” I tossed the CD, and Ray took off, his door slamming a moment later before slightly muffled metal blasted from upstairs.  
“Don’t you want to spend forever and ever with Gee? Have little terrors that run amok in Jersey?” Mikey teased, and I glared at him.  
“Fuck off, Mikey.” I snapped, scowling, and turned to go but Mikey caught my arm.  
“Mara, c’mon, I was only teasing.” He said apologetically. “I didn’t mean to upset you. What’s wrong, anyways? You always… freak out.”  
“I don’t “freak out,” and I’m not upset.” I growled, pulling my arm away. “Just… leave me alone.” I stormed off to the basement, surprised and thankful that it was empty. I beat the shit out of the punching bag, knocking some of the seams open as I worked at it, not even noticing that my knuckles had begun to split from such intense, extended abuse.  
“Wow, what’d the bag ever do to you?” Frankie asked from behind me, scaring me into jumping nearly a foot and whirling around. “Shit, Mara, look at your hands.” He frowned, approaching even as I scowled. “Your ankles are all bloody, too, how long have you been at this?”  
“I dunno.” I mumbled mulishly, looking away and crossing my arms. I’d honestly lost all track of time after the first two hours, and even _that_ had been ages ago.  
“C’mon, let’s go have Ray patch you up-”  
“I’m fine, Frank.” I snapped, and Frankie froze, not sure what was going on. I’d only ever called him that when I was homicidal, and I was sure things weren’t looking good for me. “Just fuck off.” I turned my back on him, returning to my brutal assault on the slightly-bloodied punching bag, only to have the hook in the ceiling break loose on the next strike and send the whole damnable contraption crashing to the floor in front of me.  
I let out a frustrated snarl, kicking the useless bag, then stormed off to find the sewing kit to fix it, Frankie staring after me in concern.

Nobody brought up my little temper tantrum over the next few days. In fact, Gerard and Ray didn’t even seem to know about it, which was probably for the best. Mikey avoided me, though Frankie acted like his usual self after the first day or so, when I hadn’t made any move to try and kill anyone.  
That night, Frankie took my little dog Jack instead of letting him come sleep with Gerard and I, making me wonder what was going on when Gerard nodded appreciatively at the short man, thinking I didn’t see.  
Everything was normal as we changed into pajamas and laid together on the bed, arms wrapped around each other. I knew something was bothering Gerard, but I knew better than to pressure him for answers; he would tell me when he was ready. He was aware that I knew something was amiss, I could see it in his eyes when he looked at me, kissing me softly.  
I loved it when he kissed me like that, and I melted against him, wishing the moment would never end. “I love you.” I said softly when we finally broke the kiss, suddenly feeling insecure. Was Gerard bored with me?  
“Love you, too, Mare.” Gerard sighed, and I opened my eyes, pulling my head off his chest to meet his gaze. “I love you.” He repeated sincerely, reaching up to brush some hair from my face, and I relaxed, knowing that whatever was coming wouldn’t be so bad.  
I relaxed against Gerard again, burying my face in his shoulder, content to just be held in silence. I never thought I’d have anything remotely close to this, let alone with him.  
“Mare,” Gerard said softly, breaking the long silence, I felt him swallow hard, my face still buried half in his neck, half in his shoulder. “I… I want to marry you.”  
I went stiff, frozen in place, my eyes wide, face still pressed into the soft cotton of Gerard’s loose night shirt. “What?” I asked, my voice squeaking idiotically.  
“I want to marry you.” Gerard repeated, slightly more confident. He shifted, gently chucking his fingers under my chin to make me look up at him, studying my wild, wide eyes.  
“Gerard, I- ” I opened and closed my mouth soundlessly, like a fish out of water, as I shook my head.  
“Why not, Mare?” Gerard asked softly. “I love you, nothing will ever change that.”  
“Yeah, I can think of several things.” I snickered wildly, panicking. “Gerard, I just… this is a bad idea.” I shook my head.  
“You haven’t actually said “no.”” Gerard reminded me softly, and my mouth finally stuck shut. “Why are you so against this? Do you not want to be tied down?”  
“No, it’s not that, it’s just…” I trailed off, shaking my head helplessly. I couldn’t tell him. It hurt me, it shamed me, and it would hurt him, if he knew. He wouldn’t want me anymore if he knew. “I’m being selfish, okay?”  
“Mara, I don’t understand.” Gerard said, his eyes pleading with me as he sat up, pulling me with him, keeping me securely in his lap. “Why are you so against this? Do I not make you happy? Would you rather find someone else?” The look in his eyes nearly broke my black little heart, the way he actually expected me to nod and skip out the door.  
“Gerard, I won’t ever love anyone as much as I love you.” I said, knowing it was corny and lame but not knowing some romantic, poetic way to say it. As it were, I nearly choked on the stupid, gushy words as they came out, unbidden. “You’re all I want.” I reached up, pushing his messy, bright red bangs out of his eyes.  
“Then why, Mare? Why can’t you just tell me?” Gerard caught my hand, his eyes searching mine for the answer.  
“Because… I’m scared… you might not want me anymore.” I admitted, looking away, only to have Gerard carefully catch the side of my face and make me look at him again.  
“Mara, I’ll never stop wanting you.” He said, and I suddenly didn’t feel so embarrassed by my corny outburst before.  
“I…” I began, choking on my own words. “I can’t make you happy. I won’t be enough. I’m _not_ enough.”  
“Mare, you’re more than enough; I love you, just, _please_ , tell me what’s wrong.” Gerard asked, frustration beginning to surface beneath the concern.  
The last thing I wanted was a fight, and I knew it was now or never. It wasn’t something I could hide forever, anyway.  
“Gerard, I can’t have kids.” I swallowed hard, looking away. “We… _I_ can’t ever have a family. I’m sorry, Gee, I should have told you sooner, but I didn’t think I’d actually fall in love with you, and then I didn’t want to lose you-”  
“You mean,” Gerard interrupted my ramblings, and I flinched, waiting for the explosion. “That we’ve been having protected sex for no reason?”  
I looked up at Gerard, gaping, and realized he was just teasing me. I smacked him in the head, laughing. “You asshole! I was sitting here, bearing my soul, about to have a heart attack, and you joke about sex?”  
“I’m not joking!” Gerard whined, giving way beneath my assault.  
“I’m not surprised.” I rolled my eyes with a sigh, trying to pretend I wasn’t grinning. “Here I am, thinking I’m about to ruin our lives, when it turns out I was already wrecking your sex life! Go figure!” I teased, making Gerard laugh. He suddenly leaned over me, pinning me to the bed, grinning down at me through his messy red hair.  
“You could fix that, you know.” He smirked, and I raised my eyebrows, trying and failing to appear coy.  
“And how do you propose I do that, hmm?”  
Gerard leaned in close, kissing me slowly again before pulling away, leaving me wanting more. He trailed his lips along my jawline, tracing up to whisper in my ear. “Mara, I love you. Can’t you _please_ marry me?” He pulled back to meet my eyes, his own serious and full of love, as corny as that sounds. I could feel my eyes filling up with tears as I swallowed hard and nodded, unable to come up with any words.  
Gerard grinned crookedly, leaning in and kissing me again. “Say “yes.”” He breathed against my lips. “I need to hear it.”  
“Yes.” I echoed, kissing Gerard carefully, pulling him even closer.

The next morning, Gerard and I went down to breakfast hand-in-hand, as per the usual. Jack yipped excitedly and bounded over, all conversation stopping as Gerard and I entered the room.  
Ray, Mikey, and Frankie all looked expectantly at my hand, frowning in confusion.  
“What do you think they’re looking for?” I asked Gerard, arching an eyebrow, my eyes wicked. He grinned at my shamelessness, shaking his head innocently.  
“I’ve got no idea.” He replied as we sat down at the table, Jack rearing up to put his paws on my thighs once I was in my seat.  
“How’s my favorite boy today?” I asked, picking him up as everyone else in the room answered “good” and pretended to start fighting over who my favorite really was.  
“It _can’t_ be Gerard.” Ray rolled his eyes. “I’ve got better hair than him, _and_ it doesn’t need to be chemically colored!”  
“Get a life, we know she likes me best.” Frankie retorted, grinning in my direction. “The girls always fall for their best guy friend.” He winked, and I threw a piece of my PopTart at him, which Jack happily leapt off my lap to eat off the floor.

Later that day, I paused coming up from the basement to listen to a conversation in the kitchen.  
“Gerard, I thought you were manning up and asking her last night!” Frank was saying in exasperation. He kept his voice low enough that I wouldn’t hear it, were I still all the way in the basement.  
“Who says I didn’t?” Gerard asked, obviously toying with Frankie.  
“Please, she’d be engaged if you did.” My best friend snorted, and I rolled my eyes, thinking about how freaky it was that he knew me so well.  
“I asked.” Gerard replied nonchalantly, and I knew he was shrugging.  
“And she turned you down?” Frankie sounded incredulous.  
“I never said that.” Gerard mumbled, still messing with the shorter man.  
“Well, she hasn’t got an engagement ring!” Frankie retorted, then waited for Gerard’s reply. As the silence stretched on, Frankie felt the need to break it. “You don’t have a ring, do you?”  
“Shut up.” Gerard retorted, and Frankie started laughing.  
“That is _so_ like you!” He gasped between bursts of laughter. “You proposed without a ring, didn’t you?! Oh my god, Gerard, I should have seen that coming! Jesus, I bet she just told you to do it right next time!”  
“…No…” Gerard said slowly, and Frankie’s laughter died.  
“So what did she say?” Frankie grinned, and there was silence for a long moment. “Even without a ring?” He finally asked, though, if it made any sense, I could hear his grin spreading across his face. “Really?”  
“Just for the record, I _do_ have a ring.” Gerard finally dropped the charade, though his confession surprised me. “I just…need to work out how to give it to her.”  
“When you proposed might have been nice.” Frankie snickered, and Gerard groaned in exasperation.

That night, Gerard sat me down on the edge of the bed, facing me slightly, looking even more nervous than he had the night before. He was toying with something in his pocket, which only made me more curious.  
“Listen, Mare, I know I should have given this to you last night, but… I was scared.” He said, glancing up to meet my gaze for a second before looking back at the floor as Jack leapt onto the bed behind him. I frowned in concerned confusion, but didn’t interrupt, knowing Gerard would explain when he was ready. “It’s just…” He sighed, then pulled his closed fist out of his pocket, hiding whatever he’d been playing with for a moment before he opened his palm.  
The ring I’d worn on the chain around my neck was there, centered on his hand, and I blinked at it, not sure how to react to the sudden influx of emotions.  
“I know… how much it used to mean to you.” Gerard said quickly. “I’m sorry I took that from you, and I know I can’t ever fix it, but… I was hoping, maybe, it could mean something to you again?” I looked up to meet his gaze as he said that, then looked back at the ring, still somewhat shell-shocked.  
“You kept it.” I said quietly, stunned, then looked back up at Gerard, just in time to see him blush, nodding, as he looked away. I tentatively reached out and picked the ring up, unaware that Gerard was watching me out the corner of his eye.  
I studied the band in my palm for a long moment, then curled my fist around it, suddenly lunging forward and hugging Gerard fiercely, trying hard not to let him know that I was crying.  
When I finally pulled away, I wiped my eyes, Gerard looking concerned and opening his mouth, looking like he was going to apologize. He blinked, gaped, then shut his mouth when I slid the ring on, however, looking floored.  
“Happy tears.” I mumbled grudgingly, hating to admit I was crying, for any reason. I glanced up, smiling sheepishly, and Gerard breathed a sigh of relief, then looked down to frown at the ring on my finger. “What’s wrong?” I asked, hoping he wasn’t regretting this already.  
“I wanted to do that.” He pouted, making me laugh slightly. I obligingly took the ring back off and handed it over, making him grin in elation. Gerard took my hand, pressed a soft kiss to my lips, and slid the ring back on my finger.  
“I love you.” He sighed against my lips, then pulled back, smiling contentedly.  
“Yeah, yeah.” I sighed. “I love you, too.”  



End file.
